Opinions from the Pressure Cooker

Arrogance

2012-01-21T10:08:00.002-05:00

I've had an uneasy feeling lately and I couldn't figure out what it was. The last 24 hours finally crystalized it, put it under the magnifying glass, and I recognized it for what it is. It's not a thing, it's an attitude being exuded by people, mostly of the male species, who exist in the outer circles of my daily life. And although they live there and no closer, their vibes have filtered into the center where I stand.

They reek of arrogance. And one particular group makes the Mean Mommies look like friendly neighbors.

They're Scout leaders. Let me clarify - Boy Scout Troop Leaders. The Middle Child joined Cub Scouts late in life, and spent one year as a Webelo before moving up. He wasn't going to - we arrived at the Blue & Gold banquet with him telling us he wasn't going to move up. Then the Boy Scouts enticed him with promises of campouts and whittling and he changed his mind. There. On the spot. The minute he crossed the bridge.

That's when the fun began. This troop has a leader and a number of assistant leaders, all men. I have known the leader and his family for years - his wife and I went to high school together, and his son, in my Oldest's grade, has been on a number of teams with him. I do not know the assistant leaders.

And that's the rub. No introductions. No "Welcome to the troop, I'm Assistant Leader So-and-So, Such-and-Such's father". Nothing. In fact, when I have tried to gain information, whether about registration, upcoming events, or summer camp, I am responded to with the same dismissive tone and attitude you get from the sales clerk of a department store at closing time on Christmas Eve.

They are going on some winter camping trip next week. My Middle Child has been assigned the shopping duty. Any guidance? Any words of wisdom? The leader's comment was "Well, you have to take the list, figure out if you have enough for the six people in your patrol, and don't spend more than $72 or your mother is donating anything over that."

Gives you the warm fuzzies, doesn't it? Thankfully the 13-year-old patrol leader, more responsible than any of the adults, recognized the look of bewilderment in the Middle Child's and my eyes and volunteered to go shopping with us. But we have to do it this weekend - he is busy every day after school. And he informed us that whoever is in charge of the shopping refrigerates the items that need to be. For a week. I have a family of five - I barely have enough room for a week's worth of food for them in my frig.

Even better, Middle Child had to ask what to pack. He was told there's a basic list in his handbook. Then they asked if he had a sleeping bag. Yes, yes, he does, a good one, an L.L. Bean -20° sleeping bag. That should be fine, right? Nope. One of the assistant leaders looks at my son, then me, and says "Dick's Sporting Goods has mummy sleeping bags. You'll need to pick him up one." Mind you, I've just shelled out $20 for the trip and another $30 for their mid-February excursion. I'm writing so many checks it's starting to feel like school with all the field trips. "And you'll need to bring his packed bag next Thursday so we can review it and tell you what else you'll need to get." Excuse me?!? No written list, you're leaving Friday afternoon, and Thursday you'll let me know if I need to spend more money for things you think he needs but aren't so necessary that you could tell me now. You know, so I have enough time to get them if they're THAT important. Because you obviously think I have no life.

I was talking to my girlfriend, who also happens to be a Cub Scout leader and whose son is moving up to this Troop next year. She recommends at the next meeting I walk up to each of these leaders, stick out my hand, and say, "Hi! I know Middle Child has been in the Troop since last year, but we've never been formally or informally introduced. I'm his mother."

There's a Good Manners Merit Badge that I'll meet the requirements on.

Saga of the Dance, Part 2

2012-01-14T10:32:00.011-05:00

I fear for the future of our country at times. Not from an outside group or our own politicians or the swine flu or one of the multitude of other potential hazards. I fear for our future because of who will be leading it - someday today's teenagers will be in charge. If my week is any indication, we're in trouble.

Due to a scheduling/calendar error, our big Winter Dance, scheduled for the weekend before Valentine’s Day, has no home. So I (one of the two volunteer mentors for the group) have spent almost every waking moment on the phone, checking on alternative venues. And guess what? Surprise! There’s nothing that will charge less than $1000, hold at least 150 students (there’s 350 kids between the two classes involved, and of course they’re allowed to buy tickets at the door!) AND let us bring our own food in (the parents donate the refreshments) that isn’t already booked. One hall coordinator actually laughed and asked if I realized that it was a prime wedding weekend. Um…yeah, I did, but try explaining that to a bunch of 16-year-olds. I can’t believe our state lets them get behind the wheel, because they can barely grasp the facts of reality in conversation like the following:

Please read the following completely and thoroughly before answering. You have the following options to pick from. There is nothing else available due to conflicts with sports and other school events through (apparently the end of the year, but we’ll say May 1^st at this point). There are no other options for this event, other than:

1. Dance on original date at Venue A (a church hall which we don’t even know is available because one of the officers is waiting for family member to confirm).
2. Dance on original date at Venue B (a gymnasium/auditorium in a former school that’s now a community center).
3. Dance on a Friday night in March in your school’s cafeteria (same locale as last year, and we’re not talking 5-star restaurant-style caf – it’s a cement-block-wall school caf). You do have school that day, and like with prom, you’re not allowed to be dismissed early to get ready.

Please “reply all” and simply list your choices in order of priority. If you favor putting off the dance to March, your second choice would be having it at the community center, and you like Venue A the least, then you’d respond “I like 3-2-1”.

Here's a sampling of the responses from the Best and Brightest:

"Don’t think we should have it at Venue A. Might annoy X group. We should find another place."

Yes, I am your Fairy Godmother. Let me just find my magic wand and I’ll make one appear for you.

"We can’t wait until March. What about another night in February?"

Sounds like a plan, because I’m sure no one has plans to go away during that thing on the calendar – I think it’s called February vacation week – you know, that starts the weekend after and eliminates the rest of the Friday and/or Saturday nights.

"Why can’t we just have it at the school the night we planned?"

Because we didn’t make sure it was entered on the double-secret calendar and you hooligans aren’t allowed in the same building as the middle school darlings who moved their concert to that night last month… without any adult in the building saying, “Gee, shouldn’t we check with the high school office calendar to make sure there’s no conflicts?” (Did I mention our schools are in the same large building complex but we have a principal for each school? Of course, they are a married couple – they met on the job… when they each had a different spouse.)

They finally make a decision Thursday night. They had to - any change in the date had to be announced. We confirmed Venue B yesterday. Then someone said they didn’t like Venue B, and the officers, whose backbones apparently were mysteriously removed from their bodies, started with emails that maybe we should change it again.

Forget Gen Y. This generation should be called “The Wishy-Washies”.

Whiny Wednesday: The Saga of the Dance

2012-01-11T16:43:00.001-05:00

I started out to write a great post about trying to organize the Black Hole that is my household's landslide of paperwork. But it turned into a Whiny Wednesday.

It became a Whiny Wednesday on Monday. The paperwork is still threatening to engulf the kitchen table, and the snippets of my well-intentioned blog are swirling around in my head. Everything else is on hold too, while I deal with the matters of being a class mentor and issues involving a Winter Dance.

In September, mind you, this high school cottillion was booked by the class officers with the high school office. The date was familiar because it's the same night it was held LAST YEAR! They were given the thumbs up for the date, so a reasonable person would assume they're all set, right? Nope. Apparently they were then supposed to book it with another office in the junior high (yes, I know, this is a high school dance), which maintains the building calendar. How they were supposed to know that? The information isn't in the Student Handbook, no adult in the school ever notified them of the procedure, and it was never mentioned at following meetings or at the October mentors' meeting, when all the adults got together and checked calendars.

On Monday, a group of students approached one or two of our officers to complain they have a non-school event the weekend of the dance, so yesterday, the other class mentor decided to see if there were any alternative dates. Surprise! She was informed the dance wasn't on the schedule. Even worse, in October the junior high play was moved to... yep, the same weekend as the dance. They have now bumped us from the building.

She tried to find another date, but the one she selected created a conflict with one of our teams who have a school-sanctioned competition early the next morning. I then was called to intervene. I spent my day in meetings and on the phone, trying to find some solution that would affect little if any of the students. The options are to find another date that don't conflict with any sports or other activity, or to find another venue for the originally-scheduled night that is: a) available on the weekend before Valentine's Day; b) accommodates 150-200 attendees; c) won't cost as much as a semester at a community college; and d) is located in our or an abutting town - some people will complain if they have to travel three towns over for an event... even though these same people schlep their kids every weekend to the malls and movie theaters located in the same towns as the venues.

Most frustrating of all, the schools have an online calendar system that isn't used to its full capacity. In fact, it's a hit-or-miss system. Some things make it, some don't, but there's a district calendar, a sports calendar, a performing arts calendar, a building use calendar, an academic year calendar, various school club calendars - when trying to coordinate something, it's a constant battle to make sure you check with multiple parties despite the technology being available to eliminate much of the issue.

So that's the Saga of the Dance - Part I. More to follow. More importantly, how was your day?

Wacky Weather

2012-01-09T08:58:00.002-05:00

Dear Mother Nature,

Not sure what New England has done to tick you off, but forgive us and send winter back! I know a lot of people around here are thrilled there's no snow to shovel, no ice to melt, and the heating bill is a little less than expected. But for crying out loud, it was warm enough this weekend to be out in just a sweatshirt - if hardy Yankees like me wanted winters like this, we wouldn't be living here! I mean, we were able to put up the Christmas lights in 60-degree weather in November and take them down in 50-degree weather yesterday - what's wrong with that picture? They're supposed to be snowed in and have to wait until the April thaw to go back in their box.

My kids want to go sledding and make snowmen and have a snowball fight. We want the Currier and Ives thing. But please send it soon - blizzards in April don't help make up for this Unwinter. Thanks!

Happy New Year!

2012-01-08T17:58:00.001-05:00

Yeah! Another New Year, another chance to begin again, to start over fresh.

Once again, I find myself not having been here in a while. The holidays, visiting family, and the head cold that keeps coming back on me have kicked my proverbial butt. One of my few resolutions is to make time to blog, to share. With that said, if I can't keep up with one blog, why not start other? Makes so much sense, right?

This blog, "Opinions from the Pressure Cooker" is my venting place. My new blog, "Some Semblance of An Organized Life", is part of another of my resolutions in this new year - to reach a level of organization in my home and life. It will focus on my efforts to get there and what works and what doesn't in that struggle. Feel free to follow me on both.

Wishing all of you the best in 2012!

Veterans' Day 2011

2011-11-11T16:08:00.000-05:00

It’s 11-11-11. There’s been one of these same number days over the last decade, thanks to the start of a new century, and news reporters have loved it, constantly doing stories on the weddings held and the babies born and how important and lucky and significant the repetitive date is to a particular culture.

Today is important for another reason. As a friend so eloquently stated this week, Memorial Day is to remember the soldiers and sailors that died; Veterans’ Day is to remember those that lived. She said this during a conversation with one of our principals when questioning why the schools do absolutely nothing to acknowledge the day, a question answered with “you realize we do a big ceremony on Memorial Day, right?”

This morning, the Oldest was protesting attending the parade his brother and grandfather were about to march in. Trying to get out the door to work (yes, neither the Hubby or me had today off), my patience with the whining was less than long. As he was complaining, I turned up the volume on the TV to listen to the man on the screen. There, in his living room, sat an 80-something-year-old World War II veteran telling the reporter about how he and his friends fought in northern Italy in the cold and snow, using mules to pull small cannons and supplies up the mountains, and how many of his friends, killed in action, lie with hundreds of others in a cemetery in Florence.

And he wept, remembering the pain of losing his comrades some sixty years later. I turned to the Oldest and said, “That man, when he wasn’t much older than you, spent months in the cold to fight for people’s freedom. I don’t think it’s too much to ask you to throw on a few layers and go outside for an hour-long ceremony. Do you?” Happy to report he, the Baby, and their father joined my mother to watch the Middle Child carry the flag for the Boy Scouts and my dad marching with the American Legion.

So, how did you spend your Veterans’ Day?

"Me" Time

2011-11-09T12:16:00.001-05:00

I’m back.

Yes, it’s been a while.

Nothing tragic. Or big. Just overwhelmed with life in general. Major house projects, a mobile toddler, the Oldest and the Middle Child involved in an endless variety of activities… although the reality is, my kids don’t do multiple sports in a season like some families, so you’d think there wouldn’t be as much running around.. But with Hubby still working second shift, even one sport and Scouts for the Middle Child and the Oldest having a job three days a week means I spend most of my afternoons like so many other parents… with my rear end planted firmly in the driver’s seat.

I’ve missed you. I’ve missed those lovely souls who kindly read and comment on my ramblings. And I’ve missed her – my blog, that is. The place I can release the feelings and thoughts I have without pissing anyone in my everyday world off. Where I can say things like if the friggin’ school system is going to use a district calendar, do you think maybe they could instruct the people who work for them to put everything on it, not just a few dates here and there? I have the enviable position of having three kids in three different schools this year. But thanks to the “Individual Little Kingdoms” rule our school system seems to endorse, I don’t have one, or even three, calendars to go by. I have the school calendars… and the athletic calendars… and the fine arts calendar… and the PTO calendar… and you get the idea….

Or how I envy the moms around who just don’t do. They don’t pay attention to the calendars, and they miss their kids’ games and concerts and Curriculum Nights, they don't volunteer for anything, they don't go to meetings or volunteer or and they’re always “going away for a Girls’ Weekend”… I want to know how they do it. I can’t unplug from the guilt I feel if I miss one of my kids’ events, and I certainly can’t seem to get ahead at home enough to go away for one weekend, let alone multiple weekends. What’s their secret? More involved husbands? Less involved kids?

Any ideas how to find more “me” time like those ladies?

Happy Valentine's Day - It's Been A Long, Long Time...

2011-02-14T12:35:00.008-05:00

First off, HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY to each and every one of you! Here's hoping your day brings you lots of love and happiness. Chocolate, flowers, and a nice dinner out couldn't hurt either....

It’s been a while since I've posted, four months to be exact, thanks in no small part to my inability to say “No thanks,” when asked to volunteer/help/participate/single-handedly storm the beaches of… you know what I mean. I also haven't had the time to comment back on all your blogs, but thank you for keeping me laughing, crying, and connected - I've been there, lurking in the shadows. I miss the contact with other women - I don't have a lot of time for "me" lately, and I'm realizing how unhappy that makes me. Trying to find a better balance this year is a big goal of mine, so any advice is WELCOMED! How do you do it all? How do you keep the balls all in the air?

As for the balls in my atmosphere, I’m now a Class Advisor for the Oldest’s high school class (there’s two of us, and I’m overseeing their fundraising), helping with the Middle Child’s 5th-grade End-of-Year activities planning, and am sure I’ll be sucked into helping with the Baby’s class. Yes, I said class – he started pre-K two weeks ago. His Early Intervention services helped his speech so much he was discharged, but being considered At Risk, he got a slot in our school’s Integrated Preschool Program – 2½ hours Tuesdays through Fridays, giving Hubby no excuses to avoid his Honey-Do List….

Except Hubby has a slipped/herniated disc in his back. Took almost 4 months to get a treatment plan in place, and he’s having his second cortisone shot this week. Add to this a reduction in coverage help from my parents due to some medical issues for my Dad (he’s on the mend now), and the worst winter (or should I say, January) we’ve had in New England in a decade, and I’m headed for overload. Can’t wait for the warmer weather to start the melting.

And how’ve you all been?

Hello Again

2010-10-04T11:26:00.004-04:00

Hello Blog. Hello friends. I’ve missed you all. I haven’t had time to post, to visit, not even a chance to comment on my fellow bloggers’ posts. Please forgive me.

I’m still getting into the swing of this new school year and all the activities the kids are in. The flu and concussion (and losing a month of my life) threw me off track more than I realized. I’m struggling to get back to level ground, and finding it an uphill, exhausting battle.

The Oldest is now in high school… and full-blown hormones. He has his first job - after school during the week. By the way, did you hear he knows EVERYTHING?!?!

The Middle Child decided to try golf lessons. And Cub Scouts. On top of football. And homework. He’s the type of kid who needs a busy schedule that keeps him out of the house; otherwise, he morphs into a couch potato. But he has something six days a week until the middle of November.

The Baby is now a toddler. The Early Intervention for speech has seemingly kicked in, and he’ll probably lose services at the end of this year. It has become apparent that, in his world, it’s all about… him, and there is no concept of waiting a turn or patience.

And I have not yet learned to say “no”, joining yet another committee as an advisor to the Oldest’s class. The house is still a mess and no one besides me seems to care. I still need a vacation. Hubby does too. The best we can do right now is some “Alone” time once in a while, even if it’s just grocery shopping together without the kids.

So what’s new with you all?

A Letter to the Oldest

2010-08-21T11:03:00.000-04:00

Dear Teenaged Son:

I’ve obviously fallen down on the job in educating you about life, given the things coming out of your mouth over the past week. The scary thing is that you are a good kid, a really good kid after hearing the latest horror stories from your classmates’ parents (yeah, we talk… get over it). You do talk to me and I don’t want anything I say to make that stop, but I obviously need to relay some information again.

1) A conversation that begins “We had to sneak past the cops” makes big red warning lights go off in my head. I understand your friend’s sister and your friend invited one too many people than there were seats in the van. I appreciate you telling me that. And you can thank your father that I haven’t called or Facebooked the young lady in question to address her lapse of judgment; as far as he’s concerned, as long as you had a seat, he’s willing to let it go. However, don’t ever take a ride like that again. We will find you a ride.

2) Please do not begin a conversation “We’re going to ____, but if you talk to X’s mom, don’t tell her Y is going too.” I’m not your wingman. And I want to know who is going… and if you don’t tell me the truth, don’t worry. Between the people in town I know and you and all your friends documenting everything that happens on Facebook, I’ll find out. Then you’re grounded.

3) Please don’t inform me of your plans for the day, particularly if they require your father or me to drive you anywhere… or give your friends rides. We don’t mind; trust me, I get a ton of info driving you guys everywhere while keeping quiet – you actually talk in front of me! Just ask, as in “Mom, I’ve been invited to _____ at _______ o’clock. Would you be able to give us a ride?”

4) I do, on occasion, expect your friends to give you a ride somewhere if we’re giving you all a ride home, or vice versa. While I don’t mind giving rides most of the time, I do get pissed when no one offers you a ride, particularly when most roads in town from the school lead PAST OUR HOUSE!!! As for the conversation about going to the movies tonight with your friends, please learn a lesson from it.

“Mom, can I get a ride there, and can you give us all a ride home?”

“Do they need a ride there too?”

“No, they’re getting a ride there, but can’t get one home?”

“Can’t they give you a ride there and we’ll pick you all up?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Hang on, I’ll text them.”… “Um, they’re not sure.”

“Are they not going to be home before the movie?”

“Oh no, they’re coming from home.”

“So why can’t they pick you up?”

“I don’t know. I’ll text them.” “Okay, they think they may be able to, but they need directions.”

“Haven’t these same kids been at our house before, like, 20-30 times?”

“Yeah, but… they said they need directions. Couldn’t you just give me a ride there?”

“No, and if they can’t pick you up, I don’t think we can give them a ride home.”

“Mooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmm….”

Am I wrong to expect some reciprocity in the Rides department?

Don’t You Just Love A Bargain…

2010-08-20T13:51:00.003-04:00

… particularly when it’s time for back-to-school shopping? With three kids in different sizes, back-to-school shopping is a major undertaking… and expense, so I’ve come up with some ways to cut down on mall time and keep a handle on the budget.

First, a master chart. Sneakers, underwear, bathing suits, winter coats, clothes for band concerts, cleats for sports – it’s all listed.

Second – we go through each kid’s clothes. It’s a pain but we have a git’r’dun approach. Everything is tried on, outgrown clothes are packed away for the next kid or bagged for donating, and I end up with an inventory of what fits and what they need. This list prevents overbuying, or the famous “why did we buy you a navy blue polo when you already have two that fit in your closet” moments, and guides clearance rack shopping for seasonal items (like next year’s bathing suits).

It used to be easier; I could take the list to one or two stores and be done. Then last year the Oldest grew enough to fit into men’s sizes and reached the age where labels came into play (yes, even boys go through it). Thankfully, the Middle Child isn’t picky; he prefers athletic team jerseys and jeans, anything to not have to go shopping. As for the Baby, he has enough hand-me-downs that I may never have to buy anything more than underwear and shoes.

It seemed the perfect time to teach the Oldest the joys of shopping at discount stores like TJ Maxx, Marshall’s, and Filene’s Basement (my apologies to the Kohl’s and Bob’s shoppers – I just never have luck at those stores). That suggestion was met with a look of absolute horror – he wanted name brands from the actual stores, not knockoffs. I knew that look, having grown up a chubby girl in the ‘80s with no-name jeans and a knockoff Fair Isle sweater in a town where designer jeans ruled and the unspoken dress code was The Preppy Handbook (yeah, remember THAT gem?!?).

We compromised. He learned discount stores do carry some name brands (Filene’s Basement had three racks of American Eagle clothes), was introduced to the clearance racks in his favorite stores, and instead of buying only name brand clothes (or as Hubby likes to say, “looking like you were thrown up by American Eagle), learned to mix stuff from the stores he wanted with jeans or shorts from Target. The last piece of the puzzle? I signed up online for all the coupons and sale notices his favorite stores have to offer. And we did okay. He didn’t need that much, and with the sales and coupons, we stayed on budget.

This year the Oldest starts high school. He also has a job after school three days a week, so he needs more collared shirts and chinos. With this in mind and list in hand, we were off to the mall Saturday. Thinking there would be lines everywhere (it was a Tax-Free Shopping Weekend in Massachusetts, which for clothes shopping doesn’t really matter – we don’t pay taxes on clothes here), I was surprised by an empty mall full of bargains and sales. His hit list? Aéropostale, Hollister, American Eagle - and while I prefer some stores to others (and it's my credit card), we scoured them all for bargains. Buy One Get One Free deals plus clearance plus coupons netted us 2/3rd off most purchases, making me happy, and names tattooed across his chest, making him happy. Quick stops at Old Navy for chinos that don’t look like they’ve been worn before, TJ Maxx for a few dress shirts and a fall jacket, and Target for shorts, his list is down to one item – a white dress shirt, which I will get at Walmart next week. The Middle Child got even luckier – I grabbed jeans and chinos on sale at Old Navy, the two items besides sneakers on his shopping list – he didn’t even have to go to the mall! A quick trip to Modell’s that evening got us the sneakers and some football gear he needed, and clearance racks plus sales and coupons saved us another bundle.

As of now, back-to-school clothes shopping is done. Unless the Oldest grows five inches in the next week, which could happen, right? Okay, so I won’t take the tags off anything yet.

So how’s your shopping going? Do you do it now or wait until later in the fall? How do you come up with your back-to-school shopping list? What tricks do you use to save money, and have you found you’ve cut back on your clothing budget due to the economy?

It's ALIVE!!!

2010-08-05T23:23:00.002-04:00

Me that is. I finally feel like a human being for the first time in eleven days. ELEVEN DAYS!!!! For the record, I have never been this sick in my life. The closest I came was the morning (all-day) sickness when pregnant with the Middle Child.

When we got home from vacation, I knew I didn’t feel right. But I chalked it up to a combo of being tired and allergies. And that I was PMSing.

Yeah, right. I should have been so lucky.

The flu that had the Baby and the Middle Child (and others in our group) throwing up during our vacation week (thankfully on different days) finally latched onto me last Tuesday. Full force. Meaning I made it into work for one whole hour, returned home, ran into the house, and made it as far as the bathroom sink before I threw up. And then passed out.

Then the real trouble started. Hubby was in the shower when I ran in, and all he heard was me say “hi”… and then a thud. Because when I passed out. And hit the back of my head on the side of the tub. He said I was out for a good 30+ seconds, with the whole-eyes-rolled-back-in-my-head-thing going on. All I know is I woke up to him kneeling over me, dripping wet and yelling “Wake up! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

I told him to stop yelling. I was fine. No, don’t call 9-1-1. Or my mother.

Then I sat up. My head hurt… a lot. My stomach hurt more. So I threw up a few more times and then crawled to our bedroom. And spent the next 72 hours there with a bucket next to me. He called my mother anyway. He was scared... particularly when I begged him to stay home.

I only left to go to the hospital Thursday to have my head checked out. Because friggin’ Dr. Oz did that show after Natasha Richardson died, where he said if you hit your head and pass out, you should seek medical attention. So I did. I called my doctor’s office, and they told me to… of course, go to the ER. Glad I didn’t go to the hospital for my stupid toe; now I have the money for the co-pay for this visit. After a bag of IV fluids, some anti-nausea meds, and a CAT scan, I was feeling better. The diagnosis? I have the flu. And a big bump on my head that's going to hurt for a while. That was the understatement of the century. I believe the term “Throcking Headache” would be appropriate.

On the upside, my mother came over when Hubby went to work to help out and take care of me. And she did laundry. And cleaned. And made the kids dinner. And made them do their chores. All while I’ve been fighting this bug off.

Did I mention how much I love my mom?!?

I got to lie in bed, and then this week, just to change it up, the couch. I couldn’t focus to be on the computer or read or do much of anything, so I’ve been watching a lot of daytime TV. Ugh. What happened to the TV from when we were kids? Merv Griffin and Mike Douglas and Dinah Shore and Bob Barker and a lot of daytime soaps. Now it’s “Who’s-the-11th-man-who-might-be-your-baby’s-daddy?” shows and talk shows with women who yell at one another a lot and other garbage. But there is Lipton’s Chicken Noodle Soup. And Gatorade.

So things are looking up. I'm finally feeling normal again. Today, the Oldest told me he could tell I was feeling better because I was happy again. And nagging them about their dirty socks in the TV room.

Now, a question for you ladies: have you ever been so sick that you couldn't do your normal "Mom" stuff? And who, if anyone, stepped in to help out?

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

2010-07-26T13:43:00.069-04:00

Back to work today after a week of vacation “camping”. Did I get a needed break from the real world? Yes. Do I feel energized and refreshed? Sort of. Am I hobbling around with a broken toe? Yes.

Because I kicked the Middle Child in the head.

That’s sounds worse than it was. He’s fine. That nice hard Irish head of his is no worse for wear. My left foot’s middle toe, however, is not.

Thursday was hot enough to warrant a dip in the campground’s pond. Preparing to swim out to the first dock and back, I started to ease into the waist-deep water when the Middle Child and his friend thought it would be fun to try to splash me. After threatening them if they did, I kicked off the bottom. Little did I know how close the Middle Child was, or that he was going to try to swim out with me.

So he got kicked on the top of his noggin. And I felt something in my toe snap. He said he heard the “pop” underwater. By campfire time, it was black and blue. I used the toes on either side as splints and taped the three together with large Band-Aids I’d brought.

The next morning, Hubby was worried by the color. He thought it might be dislocated and cutting off the circulation. Apparently I would go for less on the open market with only nine toes. I reminded him of the $200 ER copay we have. Over-the-phone diagnosing by my mother the nurse was approved at that point. So instead I hobbled around all day, and Saturday still managed to pack everything up to head home.

Can you guess how much help I got with unpacking? This isn’t me, but it gives you an idea what the house looks like.

And now that I think about... rested and relaxed? Heck no! I need another week off. Alone. Got an extra room for me? And a pillow for my foot?

The Sounds of Silence

2010-07-01T00:00:00.037-04:00

Is anyone else on sound overdrive yet? I realized this morning on my way to work that I am… because I drove in silence. I am surrounded by noise at home. The fans and air conditioners that have been keeping the humidity in my house down to a level I can survive in, the non-stop jabber from the kids and their friends, and the constant hum from their iPods, Wiis, and other various electronic devices all combine to a deafening level. Which you don’t realize is so loud until the kids are at someone else’s house, the Baby is napping, and the sea breeze has kicked up enough that it’s reaching my house and I can open the windows and turn off the various cooling devices.

Going over To Do lists in my head and lost in my train of thought, I only realized two blocks before the office that the radio wasn't on. The only noise in the car was the wind gusting through the open windows, and I reveled in it. A clean, cool ocean breeze - the humidity has broken in New England for a few brief days before the holiday weekend, when we're due to get into the heat that so many of you have been suffering through.

Not having the constant noise is one of the things I treasure about our family vacation each summer. We go away for a week to a campground with a group of other families. We do not camp – this place has a number of 38’ trailers grouped together, which we rent. With a small kitchen and bathroom inside the unit, it suits a family whose patriarch has publically declared that he doesn’t work as hard as he does to spend his vacation sleeping on the ground. And while these units have the compact interior amenities that make me want to give up my house and downsize to a more simple way of life, they do not have one big thing – a TV. There is no television, cable, DVDs, or gaming systems - unless you bring one. WiFi is only available if you take your laptop down to the general store, stand on your left leg facing north under a waxing crescent moon, and… you get the picture. Like a scene from Oprah when she has a family “unplug” for a week, our entertainment at night is talking around the campfire, watching the embers glow while the kids make s’mores and light off sparklers.

Which brings me to my Question of the Day – if your family had to unplug, how long do you think they could last without TV or other electronic devices?

Home Economics 101

2010-06-22T13:54:00.002-04:00

I used to think my mother was joking about how much food my brother ate as a teenager. Being three years older, I was pretty much gone by the time he hit high school, so the stories of he and his friends polishing off a few pounds of cold cuts, a loaf of bread, and two gallons of milk for lunch seemed fabricated. I've learned better. Teenaged and pre-teenaged boys, at least in my house, have hollow legs and eat as if they were bears approaching four months' of winter hibernation.

The Oldest has never been a big eater. He’s on the swim team at our local Y and should eat more than he does, but has said to me and my mother on a number of occasions that he doesn’t want to be “fat like Dad” (yes, Hubby’s weight and the accompanying health concerns have definitely affected the Oldest’s view of the world!). He does, however, have no problem scarfing down half a pizza and fries after school with friends at the local hangout. Then there’s the Middle Child, who has no problem eating enough – his problem is eating too much. With a nut allergy, we’ve never been able to send him with a PB&J for lunch, but that doesn’t explain his belief that every meal should be a three-course adventure – he’s the only kid I know who took meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans for lunch… at preschool. As the child I consider most likely to have future weight issues, so his snack options have been directed to more fruits and vegetables and less crackers and chips. The Baby is shaping up to be somewhere in between, but is big on banana bread, yogurt, and chicken, so he’s good.

With the rush of the school year ending and a packed calendar, grocery shopping didn't make the list this weekend. I usually have plenty on hand in the pantry and just need to grab milk, bread, and a few other things on a weekly basis, but with these two now home for the whole day, plus their assorted friends hanging around, I was woefully unprepared. So yesterday afternoon we all went to the market – me, the Baby, the Middle Child, and the Oldest. I was reminded rather quickly why I don’t bring them all with me – the two older ones wouldn’t stop egging one another on, the Baby wanted to get out of the carriage and play with them, and it took me twice as long to get through the store.

It was somehow worth it when we checked out. Despite a liberal helping of store brands and coupons, my short list of bread, milk, yogurt, and hummus had somehow expanded into an overflowing carriage totaling well over $200. As the cashier announced the final amount, I heard a gasp from the Oldest. “Mom, that’s a lot of money!” “Yes, it is.” “Mom, that’s enough to buy an iPod Touch!” “Yes, it is.” “Mom, we cost that much?!?!”

No, honey, that’s just the start of it. Welcome to Home Economics 101. Now wipe that horrified look off your face and help me get all these bags in the car.

So, how different is your weekly grocery bill in the summer than during the school year? Do your own kids, if they're old enough, grasp how much food costs these days? And how do you handle it if you're on a tight budget but find yourself feeding an army of neighborhood kids in addition to your own?

Rock Lobster

2010-06-21T18:28:00.012-04:00

It’s official. My back is as fried as my brain has been lately. Last Tuesday was the school's day at the beach, and while I did remember to vigilant about putting sunscreen on the kids, I forgot to put any on myself. And I burned. I'm not talking a little pink around the shoulders. I'm talking purple red. The saving grace to the bathing suit I had on is that it has a band that goes directly across my back, so a bra could still be worn after being put in place VERY carefully. Almost a week later, I no longer resemble a boiled lobster. Yesterday the itchy peeling stage started, so my back now looks like a snake that’s shedding its skin. Trust me, next year, I'm slathering the SPF 50 on before leaving the house!

There are a bunch of two-sentence posts cluttering my hard drive, but I haven’t been able to put my thoughts cohesively together until today. A lot has gone on since my last post. Still waiting for a call to interview on that job I applied for. Sent out two more applications for jobs, but haven’t heard back from them either. Still waiting to hear back from the Alma Mater about how many classes I actually need to finish my degree. TMI warning – my darling dad’s doing much better now that the catheter is out from his prostate cancer surgery, and he’s recovering nicely. The past month has been consumed with that particularly situation - the combination of prescribed medications, his physical discomfort, and the affects of making a very active man sit still and do nothing, all worked together to make him actually nasty. You'd have to know that my Dad is one of the nicest men in the world, but it was so bad, I didn't want to be around him. And then there was my Mom, who, thanks to Mr. CrabbyPants being in the house, did a lot of errand-running once he could be left alone for short periods of time. Many of those errands included a stop at my house for a cup of tea and a chance for her to have a break.

With school letting out last Friday, we’ve slipped into summer mode in these parts, like so many of you already have. A very simple, quiet ten weeks have exploded over the past two weeks with things to put on the calendar: graduation parties, sports camps and cooking classes for the kids, our family vacation, and when my brother’s wife and kids will be ping-ponging their way through here over the next month before moving out to the West Coast. Shortening up the summer quite a bit are the facts that the Middle Child had an end-of-season lacrosse jamboree yesterday (yes, on Father’s Day!), his football practices start mid-August, and the school year starts before Labor Day again this year. Which I REALLY don’t get, because they are still not getting out of school any earlier than when they went back the day after Labor Day.

Ten weeks. That’s what I’ve got. It seems to be so short, in comparison to when we had just the two older kids and I was working full-time. I had a lovely color-coded calendar in Excel back then, listing all the camps and who was picking up who when – those summers averaged over $3000 so that I could work full-time. Now? Hubby and I still hand off midday, but now instead of rushing to pick kids up at camp, I rush to get home to turn the sprinkler on or take them up to the library or down to the beach.

So, do you find the summer more hectic in some ways than the school year? How do you cope with school vacation if you work outside of the home?

It’s A Sign, Right?

2010-05-24T21:29:00.000-04:00

It was all planned out. The part-time job is great but frustrating for a number of reasons, not the least of which being it was a three-month “temporary” job… two years ago. Thinking the quickest way to become more marketable was to add “bookkeeping” to the list of things I can do, the stage was set to start classes tonight for a six-course certificate at our local community college, which I could complete by the end of December.

Then I got a message yesterday that the first course has been cancelled. The second course, the prerequisite to three other courses? It was moved from Thursdays to Mondays, starting a week later. The course is only six weeks long, and the new schedule conflicts with the Oldest’s Honors Night and our family vacation (the only week we have together each year). I opted to not take the course. Instead of the certificate, I’m going to take online courses in the same areas and hope that someone would count that as “knowing the software”.

Cutting that avenue off for now means I’m keeping my fingers crossed on two other things. First, I’m going to try to finish my bachelor’s degree. With only five courses to go and all of them finally being offered online, it may be within reach. I just have to get someone on the phone at my old school.

The second piece of news is… I applied for a new job. A part-time job. With a great company in our town. You would have to understand how much I HATE the whole job hunt thing to know how monumental this is. I get very nervous and take it very personally, particularly when I’m told I’m overqualified. Which has happened before. The last time I looked for a job. I wanted to scream at the person telling me this, “Yes, most people with 20+ years experience would be overqualified for most administrative assistant positions, but I already thought about that – thanks for pointing it out. And by the way, is this where I violate all interview rules and tell you the reason I want to work for you part-time is so that I can manage the rest of my life without losing it? Is this where I tell you I have three kids of varying ages, and with Hubby working second shift, I can’t work full-time, run the house, deal with the kids and their activities, and maintain my sanity? Unless, of course, you’re going to pay me six figures because I can answer the phone and correctly take a number down and type in coherent sentences, because then I can afford to hire a housekeeper or a nanny.” But I didn’t, because I was stunned into silence. Which again, is big. Huge. I’m not a quiet person.

Let’s hope God/the Fates/WhoEver is steering this ship is trying to tell me, in some small way, that the summer courses aren’t meant to be because they won’t be needed, that I’ll get a call this week for an interview, that by the time I go on vacation in July, I’ll have a new position. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

"M" is for May, Mother's Day, and Mammograms

2010-05-20T20:52:00.005-04:00

Happy Belated Mother's Day to all the moms out there. I've been lurking but efforts to post anything have been thwarted by a number of interlopers. Actually having to do work at work hasn't helped, nor has the Baby's new refusal to take an afternoon nap. And like so many of you, the sudden addition of spring sports and end-of-year school activities leaves me wishing they'd get that cloning thing down... or that we lived in a mobile home (can you imagine? I'd save an hour a night not having to drive to and fro!). My sudden inability to remain upright and awake past 10:15 on any given night isn't helping either - I've done some of my best writing at 2:00 in the morning!

I've also been trying to focus on cleaning/decluttering the house so that I can give myself my Mother's Day gift. I'm hiring a cleaning crew to come in and do one deep cleaning. My thought process is that if I start fresh, I'll be able to keep up with it, rather than always feeling like I'm trying to catch up.

On a more personal note, I have yet another friend who's been diagnosed with breast cancer. I, having put off my routine 40-year-old mammogram for 3 years (well... I got pregnant... then I nursed... then I was, um, busy?), was given this news two weeks ago by a friend we have in common. Who then, knowing I hadn't rescheduled my mammogram, yelled at me to Get It Done. And I did. I called that day, they had a cancellation the next afternoon, and off I went. I should add here that this was my second mammogram. I had a baseline done at 35. Because my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. That baseline was fine. This one was too. Okay, you can yell at me now.

And now a request to you all. May is Mammography Month. It is the month of Mother's Day. Please - make your mammogram appointment now and mark it on your calendar. And don't find an excuse not to go - this particular friend was going to cancel. Thank God she didn't. Her breast cancer was discovered at the earliest stage, and her prognosis is excellent.

Make sure you do your self-examinations. Make sure you get screened. Let's make sure we're all around for many more Mother's Days.

Little Rewards

2010-04-26T18:16:00.004-04:00

In the middle of my chaos today … is a perfect cup of hot nonfat latte, with a hint of ground chocolate and cinnamon sprinkled on top. It is my reward for getting up and facing the world this morning, running errands this afternoon, and driving kids where they needed to go tonight.

We have a lovely little coffeehouse downtown, which is my stop at least once a week. I don't go in the mornings - our daily coffee is made at home. But I have a deal with myself – if I save at least $10 in coupons and on sales and it’s going to be a late night like tonight, with much to get accomplished, I pick up a latte. I'm not a shopper. When the girlfriends and I get together, it's at someone's house, not out. My family doesn't eat out often, maybe pizza once a month. I don’t think a weekly cup of coffee is much to ask for. A large is $3.50, and I consider it my treat for being a good girl.

It got thrown in my face last week (figuratively, not literally... or this would be another whole post!) when Hubby once again spent money taking folks from work out for someone's going-away sendoff. I knew he was going out, I knew he’d buy a drink or two… I just didn’t realize the tab would once again be over $50 (the third time in two months), or that once again I’d be notified not by my Hubby but by an automatic email alert telling me over $25 had been spent on the credit card. As we were discussing the situation (okay, I was pretty ticked – I mean, he doesn’t even take ME out for drinks or dinner!), the empty cup next to me was brought into question, as in “well, you buy coffees downtown”.

Really?!? Is he kidding me?!? Part of our budget allows him $15 a week so he can buy his daily large ice coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts (or wherever he wants). Our budget only allows me a latte when I have clipped coupons or found a bargain on something we needed. The answer to this dilemma was to offer him two options: he can stop buying other people drinks and still get his ice coffees, or he can go on a cash allowance, $60 per month, and spend it as he sees fit. At this point, he's selected Option #1.

I’m still buying my weekly latte. I deserve at least that much.

So, do you have a “little reward” you allow yourself daily, weekly, or even monthly? Do you feel like you need to justify it to anyone else?

Team Bethenny or Team Jill?

2010-04-23T13:50:00.004-04:00

I haven’t posted anything new because… yeah, nothing. I changed this blog's template and then spent lots of time trying to tweak the damn thing. Hopefully it's readable - the green Dots template was getting to me, and I've added a lot of folks to my Blog List because... I spend an inordinate amount of time reading other people's thoughts.

I also haven't posted because, well, not that I don’t have a lot to say – I always have a lot to say. But this week has kicked my drooping saggy-baggy butt. It’s School Vacation Week. ‘Nuf said. The kids have been eating nonstop, hanging out with friends, and fighting their regular bedtimes every night. I’ve had some weird virus all week that made the back of my throat feel like one huge blister. Between that and my allergies, all I wanted to do was lie down. Thanks to all that, plus the seasonal outdoor stuff that now comes into play, my To Do list is growing exponentially.

But there has been a bright spot in my week. The Girls are almost back. Yes, I will confess. I watch “Real Housewives of New Jersey”. And “New York”. I’m not a huge fan of the other two: “O.C.” or “Atlanta” (my absolute least favorite), but there’s something about the New Jersey group that I like. As for the New York crew, I like Alex and Bethenny. The rest of them could take a hike.

Why do I watch? One, TV these days is REALLY horrible. Two, like a soap opera, you can watch these shows AND do something else. I've been trying to do tasks like folding laundry or sorting through boxes of files while these shows are on. Three, my life, even during its worst moments, looks so friggin’ NORMAL compared to these people. It’s the same reason I watched “Sex and the City” – it reminded me that no matter how glamorous someone else’s life might look, everyone’s got issues.

So, any other closet “Real Housewives” fans out there? Which one is your favorite, and why? And if you’re a “New York” fan, are you Team Bethenny or Team Jill?

T.G.I.F.

2010-04-09T14:00:00.002-04:00

Yeah! The weekend’s almost here and it’s… raining again in New England! Today I don’t mind. We have dinner plans for a friend's birthday (Hubby even took the night off for it!) and it'll be a scramble if the Middle Child has lacrosse practice.

I also don’t mind that the rain is washing the pollen away. The older I get, the worse my allergies seem to be. Anyone else having that problem?

This weekend will hopefully be quiet. It’s almost a letdown after last week’s frantic holiday preparations, and when I say frantic, I wasn’t even cooking Easter dinner – we ate at my parents’ house! I had to make a dish and a dessert, and stupidly didn’t shop ahead of time. With both Easters (regular and Eastern Orthodox, or as we call them in my hometown, Easter and Greek Easter) being the same day (they’re usually not), EVERYONE was at the store – it took me almost 90 minutes to get a few things and make it through the lines.

The frantic part was realizing at 8:00 Saturday night I didn't have what I thought I did on hand for Easter baskets, so there was a mad scramble to get to the nearest mall to pick up one or two things. We don’t do big gifts, but with the Middle Child sort of believing in the Easter Bunny and this being the first year the Baby had an inkling, we needed something.

My To Do List includes updating the family calendar now that the spring sports schedules are out. The schools also decided this week to share the dates of end-of-year activities, concerts, and other events, and with the Oldest "graduating" middle school, there's even more "stuff". I don't know why I'm even surprised - my kids only have TEN weeks of school left, nine if you don't count Spring Vacation Week, and every year Springtime means Busy Time. At least Hubby's taking a week off to attend all the evening events; there's THREE in one week just for the Oldest!

What are your big plans for the weekend?

A New Experience - The World of CSAs

2010-04-08T14:09:00.000-04:00

The email came today saying our application to a local farm’s new Community-Supported Agriculture (CSA) program was accepted. I can’t begin to tell you all how much I’m looking forward to this. Any words of advice from anyone who’s participated in one before?

Our CSA starts mid-June and runs 20 weeks to the end of October. We bought a whole share, which entitles us to about $30 worth of veggies, fruits, and other goodies each week. We picked this particular opportunity because they do more than just veggies - they also have an incredible orchard, grow herbs, and have eggs from their own laying chickens. They even make their own cider and cider donuts to boot! Our favorite place to pick apples every fall, and with offerings more diverse than other area CSAs offer, it seemed like a natural pick. Helping the decision along was reading Barbara Kingsolver’s “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” last year (a book I recommend to EVERYONE!). After finishing it, I started frequenting our local farmstands, buying different color Swiss chards and fresh melons (should have read the sign – mushmelon didn’t go over well), serving red, white, and blue roasted potatoes, and making salads with more than just iceberg lettuce and a few tomato wedges. I’m sure we’ve all seen the national push for more of us to have our own gardens, and their benefits – even Michelle Obama was on the news recently planting her second year kitchen garden.

After Hubby’s latest cardiac incident, we added buying more simple and organic foods to the mix. “Quinoa and barley and brown rice, oh my!” sings out every time I reach for something from our revised pantry offerings. We even arrange our errands to stop at a dairy three towns over to buy our milk - the only problem with that idea is it’s also an ice cream stand, so we try to make the milk run with no kids on board!

I've given serious thought to having my own garden, but growing up with a mother who’s still a serious gardener (her vegetable garden was the size of half a football field when I was growing up… and she planned and planted so most of it yielded TWO harvests), I know the time it takes, which I just don’t have to spare right now. I also know my frustration level will be topped out the first morning we discover the deer/rabbits/groundhogs have eaten something to its roots. So sorry, Mrs. Obama, no backyard garden this year at our house – the CSA looks the way to go for now.

It should be an interesting experience, one that will hopefully reinforce the idea with my kids their food doesn’t magically appear on their plates or come in plastic bags from the supermarket, and can even be grown in a familiar place instead of halfway around the world.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

2010-03-30T12:09:00.003-04:00

Dear Mother Nature:

I am sorry. For what, I don’t know. But obviously someone did something to really piss you off. That or your kitchen sink is leaking. Big time. Could you please call a plumber to look at it? Thanks!

This is the third big rainstorm in a month, the month which all started with your windstorm that make the surrounding area look like the scene from Harry Potter where the troll is smashing bathroom stalls and sinks with his club. Trees splintered in half, trees in houses, bikes in trees – yes, bikes in trees. Not to mention anything else that went airborne that night.

And yet the forecast for the weekend is… sunny and a chance of 70s. 70s?!?! Really?!? It was only in the 30s on freakin’ SATURDAY!!!! But even if it's sunny, everything will still be squishy and soggy and muddy. Ugh.

I’ve become an expert in water diversion. Every downspout on my house has an extension on it, set in a direction to send the water flowing away from my foundation. Even the sump pump discharge hose has been elongated… because it actually created a ditch in the lawn where it was pumping out! And two pumps are on now, and are just keeping up with the flow. The water table is once again so high (just like 10 days ago) that it’s seeping up through every crack in the cellar floor. This is when I am thankful we don’t have a finished basement. And that everything down there is off the floor, sitting mostly in Rubbermaid containers on top of those great milk crates from college.

What is it they say in New England? “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute and it will change.”

I’m waiting.

From the Mouths of Not-So-Young-Babes

2010-03-26T12:44:00.011-04:00

After what has been a week of agita, the Middle Child made one of THOSE statements this morning that just makes you smile. I gave him a kiss and hug before he went out the door to walk up to the bus stop, and, as I always do, yelled after him to have a good day.

He turned and yelled back, "Every day is a good day, especially when it's a FRIDAY!"

Did I ever mention how much I love that kid? Have a good weekend, everyone!

The House Next Door - Part Two, or How I Got to Be the Neighborhood Bitch

2010-03-25T13:00:00.001-04:00

I am a good person. At least I think I am. My friends and family tell me I am. I take care of my family, my husband and I work hard, the whole family is involved in our community, schools, youth sports… we’re your average middle-class working family with a few kids and some personal crises we’ve gotten through. Hubby and I have been married for 19 years this year, and together for 23. I believe in personal responsibility, living up to your word, behaving in a civil manner, and being neighborly.

There's a great line in one of the Harry Potter movies, The Goblet of Fire, where Dumbledore tells Harry, "Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy." So how does doing what is right make me the Bad Guy? How the Hell did I end up being the bitch? Do I attract the wackos and dingbats? Are they drawn to me like a moth to a flame, because I have had my share of drama lately, and I don't want anymore!

Remember the house that was on fire four months ago, right next door? It’s still there, burned out, with piles of fiberglass insulation and siding and shingles and stuff that was on the back porch where the fire started all lying there. Only now the piles have been exposed to the elements for FOUR months and are being blown all over the place, particularly during the last month’s THREE serious nor’easters.

And the mice. My car just needed hundreds of dollars worth of work done because I had mice in my engine – the car is not garaged and is driven every day. There’s cats haunting the burned out shell and barn in back daily, and some folks have seen a few mice coming and going at night.

The owner? He disappeared. He’s not living with the only child, the daughter and her husband and kids… TWO STREETS OVER!!! Rumors in the neighborhood were that he was living three towns over because his daughter wouldn’t let him keep his dog. The daughter and husband who couldn’t be bothered to come help him after his heart attacks or strokes, who left it to the neighborhood to shovel his walkway and driveway and to call the ambulance when he’d fallen on the sidewalk or in the house and split his head open, the ones that we were told not to call when the ambulance arrived on scene.

So what’s a girl to do? Listen to your friends who are firemen and others who drive past your house every day, who tell you it shouldn’t have been left like that? Listen to your doctors and pediatricians about the health issues the fiberglass could pose for your kids (did I mention two of mine have asthma)? Do what everyone tells you to do and call the Fire Chief, who tells you to call the Building Inspector, who schedules a drive-by sometime in the next few weeks (meaning he did nothing). Hubby even stopped by the daughter’s house last Saturday to talk to the husband, to offer to help him cover up the crap with a few tarps and cinder blocks. The husband, the son-in-law, the SIL, who blows smoke up Hubby’s ass, declining his offer, telling him the insurance company signed off on the outside and ServPro’s coming first thing to begin cleanup.

Five days, no sign of a cleanup crew or anyone on site, nothing but crap still sitting there. And the cats. I hit my limit. I got pissed. I called the Health Inspector to check on the status and was promises a drive-by. The Health Inspector who then apparently got the SIL on a conference call with the Building Inspector and told him we’d filed a complaint. All we wanted was the crap cleaned up or covered up, because this is what it looks like from our driveway:

Fifteen minutes later, my phone rang. It was the SIL, screaming at me who the Hell do I think I am and a bunch of vulgarities I won’t type because it makes my stomach acid turn and my blood pressure go sky high. Screaming that he’d talked to Hubby and I should learn to communicate better. I hung up on him.

I called the Building and Health Inspectors and told them I’m done, that the SIL had just called screaming and I’m sure he’ll be at my door next. And he was, with, SURPRISE, the owner! The owner then screamed at me, telling me I had no right to call anyone, to keep my nose out of it. I tried to calmly tell him all we wanted was the crap cleaned up or covered over, that it’s potentially harmful to my kids. His response? “I don’t give a shit about your kids! I’ve had three heart attacks, and you’re trying to kill me.” When I told him Hubby’s had them too, he responded “I don’t give a shit about your family.” The SIL continued on the same rant, screaming at me… as he’s PILING THE CRAP UP AND COVERING IT WITH A TARP!!!

There it is in a nutshell. They don’t give a shit about my family. He doesn’t care. And for good measure, the SIL screamed that no one in the neighborhood was surprised that I’m being such a bitch and causing trouble, that no one likes me.

Wow. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. And I’m still reeling. My saving grace is that I called Hubby after I shut the door in the owner’s face, and he left work, driving 20 miles to get home. My parents also came over, arriving as they were still in their yard – I didn’t want to be alone with my kids, who heard the whole thing.

The owner and SIL left the scene, so Hubby and my dad went down to the daughter’s house; the SIL and she weren’t there, but the owner was. He told Hubby we shouldn’t have involved the town; Hubby responded we had no choice. He said we should have called him; Hubby told him no one knew where he was. Hubby told him we did care, that he was sure it must tear him and his daughter up to go near the house (did I mention his wife died in her sleep three years ago in the house?). Hubby then said he’d talked to the SIL himself, and the SIL told him a totally different story than he’d told the Building Inspector, which was different than he’d told the Health Inspector… the SIL lied. Hubby even told the owner all this could have been avoided if the SIL had just accepted his offer of help… and done exactly what they’d just done ON SATURDAY!

The way it stands now? Hubby promised I will not call anyone else. They have been directed not to speak to me or our children. Hubby will speak only with the owner, the owner will only speak with Hubby. Then the owner started with, “Well, the SIL is going to be the one getting the estimates…“ Hubby responded that he understood, but no one in that family is to say anything to me or our kids, or do anything to us, or they will deal with Hubby directly.

Did I do the right thing? Do I have a right to be concerned about my kids? Isn’t that my job? So why can’t everyone else do the right thing?

The Weekend That Wasn't

2010-03-03T12:11:00.010-05:00

I didn't have a weekend this past week. I was too busy. Ever have one of those weekends, where Tuesday or Wednesday you think, hey, where'd my weekend go?

Thursday night, our part of the world had a surprise storm, and when I say storm, I mean rain and winds hitting 85+ m.p.h. With the sump pump in our basement running every three minutes, lights flickering and cable stations going out and coming on again, Hubby and I thought it might be a good idea to get the generator out of the garage and set it up to run the pump.

Of course, the power blew just as we said those words. I lit the kerosene lamp we have and grabbed my boots, heading for the basement to begin bailing out the water and yelling to the two older kids to get up, get dressed, and come help. Having opened the garage door just before the power went, Hubby headed down the driveway. Unable to find the two-wheeler or thinking to use the kids’ little red wagon to haul this 150 pound machine, he carried it to the front of the house, some 100+ feet away.

Then he came in the house and asked me to call 9-1-1; he, the cardiac patient himself, was having chest pains and shortness of breath. He was scared. I went onto automatic pilot. I called for help. Told the Oldest to call my parents. Called neighbors to stay with the kids until my parents arrived. Called other neighbors to get the generator going. Grabbed a few things in the dark and threw them in a bag. Got ready for Chaos to reign over my world for the next few days.

Everyone came. My dad and neighbors got the generator running and hooked up the pump, saving the basement, while my mom stayed with the kids. Hubby and I were treated to an hour-long ambulance ride to the hospital, a ride that normally takes 15-20 minutes. I rode shotgun in the passenger seat, seeing firsthand what Mother Nature had done. Sixty foot pine trees snapped in half, power lines down everywhere, huge old trees ripped up by their roots and toppled over, no power on anywhere, making the drive extremely treacherous. A few times we had to drive on the shoulder of the road to avoid debris or lines. When the sun came up, the destruction was even more apparent. It looked like a giant with a club in hand walked through the area, just swinging at anything, smashing trees everywhere.

Our power was out until Friday night, while some in the region didn't get it back until Sunday. And how do you tell people there’s no school when power, phone, and cable/Internet lines are down? Somehow word got out, and the kids faced an adventure-filled day with no electricity. No Wii. No TV. No Internet. The horror!

As for Hubby, he did not have another heart attack like six years ago. He was lucky he felt something and lucky he listened to his body and stopped, as the blockages he had were in the area they call “the Widow-Maker”. Nice name, huh? The cardiologist explained some people have no symptoms and then drop dead of a heart attack, and their autopsies will show this is the area that was blocked. Hubby did have some blockages that were resolved the next day with a cardiac catheterization procedure and a second stent, and he was released Saturday with a warning from the cardiologist. He looked my husband in the eye and said, “you can’t do anything about your family history (which is lousy), but you can address the other risk factors – you need to lose weight, and you need to watch your diet.” FINALLY!!! I didn’t do the “I-Told-You-So” dance, but looked Hubby squarely in the face and promised to break his jaw if I see him eating potato chips anytime during the next, say, 20 years. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about his diet for at least 6-8 weeks while he’s wired shut! Now I just need to find the crowbar…

So how was your weekend?

Anger Management with Eye Candy

2010-02-25T13:13:00.004-05:00

Maybe it’s hormonal, although I hate throwing that excuse out there.

Maybe the weather. Rainy, cold, no snow to play in, muddy yards that aren’t conducive to sending the kids outside. To be honest, I’d rather have snow.

Maybe I’m just tired, so tired that I keep falling asleep on the couch downstairs instead of in my comfy warm bed, waking every morning with aches and pains from sleeping in a ball in one position all night. But if I try to shut off and go upstairs before Hubby gets home, I feel guilty that I haven’t folded the basket of laundry or finished writing out the bills or done the sinkful of dishes, because it’s all on my shoulders, and if I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done.

I’m flying-off-the-handle angry at recent stories about school bullies and seriously want to see these little terrorists doing perp walks out of courtrooms. I’m frustrated with a high school curriculum that uses block scheduling, where my kid most likely will have English class in the first semester freshman year and not again until second semester sophomore year (but he can take over 20 art and music electives... and they wonder why the US is underperforming other countries!). I’m working on a fundraiser with friends... and an idiot who was involved in the Mean Mom debacle last year, who has many opinions about what we’re not doing right but does none of the work herself. I can’t even indulge in my comfy cup of cocoa at night – four extra pounds on the scale, and there’s not even any Bailey’s in it or whipped cream on it!

I’m a planner, a list-maker, and it’s as if the rest of my world would prefer to live by the seat of their pants. I don’t want to be this angry person I’m becoming, but I’m ticked off at everything lately and don’t know how not to be. I need to find my disconnect switch. On that note, something new - I’m shutting down every weeknight at 9:00. No watching the news, no doing chores. Getting in my PJs and going to my room, where the laptop is being put to use as a DVD player. I started last night (thank you, Netflix!) with “P.S. I Love You”.

Guess what? It helped. Yeah, I used a handful of Kleenex, laughing some places through my tears, but overall, a pretty good movie.

P.S. - Watching the charming Misters Butler, Connick Jr., and Morgan didn't make me angry!

P.P.S. - I'd like to go to Ireland. NOW, please!

So, is there ever a time you have to take a step back and try to understand why your mood is so negative? When you get angry over the little things? How do you deal with it?

How to Spread Infectious Diseases, Courtesy of CVS

2010-02-17T12:51:00.002-05:00

Have you seen the TV ad yet? The CVS spot, advertising their One-Minute Clinics, shows a mom taking her two little girls to a birthday party when one of them says she has a sore throat. En route, they stop at the nearest CVS clinic, where they are promptly greeted, the little girl is examined, and a prescription is handed over. Back in the car lickety-split and off to the party with no time to lose.

What idiot designed this ad campaign?!? Must have been a man, because most moms I’ve talked to had the same reaction: WTF?!?! For crying out loud, the cup of wine is finally making a comeback at Mass, but CVS is endorsing public health risks?!? Did none of your ad people see ALL those public service announcements: if you’re sick, stay the Hell home!

If it’s strep throat, the little darling is CONTAGIOUS until she’s been on the antibiotic for 24 hours. If it’s H1N1, that Tamiflu isn’t going to keep Typhoid Mary from possibly infecting the school's entire third grade population at the party. If it’s not one of those two, I can’t for the life of me think why the kid with a sore throat needs a prescription!

If your kid’s sick enough to take to a clinic, why would CVS think it's okay to still go to the party? Or do they not have a problem with THOSE moms, the bitches who would think nothing of handing the prescription to the hostess and telling her that little Janie needs to take her first dose with food, so please make sure she has her cake and eats it too. The same bitch who regales all the other parents with the saga of how her other kid, the one playing in the other room with Tom, Dick, and Harry, spent the last three nights throwing up and having the runs, but wouldn’t have missed the party for anything.

To those moms, be a responsible parent and keep your walking Petri dish at home. To the advertising geniuses from CVS, what’s your address? I need a place to park my kids for the rest of vacation week. Don’t worry – one said his throat is only a little sore, and I'm sure the other's stomach has calmed down since last night. Look on the bright side - he made the upchuck bowl two out of three times!

My Son

2010-02-04T11:46:00.001-05:00

I’ve learned some lessons in my life from my children. From my third son, I learned that life goes on, that time doesn’t really let you heal after a loss. It lets your wounded heart scab over, with the scab becoming thicker so that you feel it less. But it breaks open every once in a while, with the pain that is just below it coming out. And then it heals over again, and lets you move on down a path that you never thought you’d be on.

Today, my son would have turned six. But instead of presents, I will go to the florist to buy white and red roses to put on his grave. Our grave – where my husband and I will be buried too. It’s already got a headstone with his name on it; I needed something physical that the world could see and know that he was here.

My third son, the one I was pregnant with when my husband survived his heart attack, was delivered today, February 4, 2004 in the late afternoon. He was 14 ½ inches long, and weighed 1 lb., 15.2 oz. I was only 28 ½ weeks along; he wasn't due until the end of April.

And he was already gone. My son Jimmy was stillborn. We don’t know what happened. The last time I felt him kick was that Sunday during the Super Bowl; we even joked that he would play for the Patriots some day. Tuesday morning I realized he hadn’t been active. By then his heart had stopped. I was induced and delivered him Wednesday afternoon. Saying “goodbye” before I had a chance to say “hello” was the worst moment in my life to date. We held him and took pictures. My Other Mother, my mother’s best friend, brought a small cross that we stitched onto his outfit. My parents held him. My nurse baptized him and the Baptist chaplain prayed with us, because our priest wouldn’t come to the hospital. I left the hospital with empty arms.

We buried him that Saturday. My brother’s wife wrote a beautiful piece, his eulogy, that she read. And, because each of my sons has their own song, my brother read Jimmy’s song out loud, a song I chose for him the minute we knew he was a boy and what his name would be, never thinking for one second it would become such a mournful tune to me.

Sweet Baby James

…There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway

A song that they sing when they take to the sea

A song that they sing of their home in the sky

Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep

But singing works just fine for me

Goodnight you moonlight ladies

Rock-a-bye sweet baby James

Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose

Won't you let me go down in my dreams

And rock-a-bye sweet baby James

I will love you forever, my sweet baby James. And life goes on.

Money Makes the World Go Around

2010-02-03T14:18:00.001-05:00

And causes disagreements between Hubby and me. Money’s been an issue since before we got married, when I found out Hubby was in debt up to his eyeballs. After a loan from my parents paid everything off, I insisted we cancel our honeymoon and put that money plus all the cash wedding gifts towards our first house.

Fast forward twelve years. We’d moved to a bigger house with two kids and me pregnant with #3. Thanks to Hubby’s spending ways, we’ve got some credit card debt but are just making ends meet. Then Hubby has a mild heart attack and goes on long-term disability for six months. Whatever meager savings we had quickly went to keep on top of the bills.

Another six years go by. Still making ends meet, but I’ve given up my full-time job. I work mornings and Hubby works second shift, eliminating the need for daycare for the Baby. With less income, I’m watching our bottom line even more closely, always looking for ways to pay things off and get a little ahead. Then pennies from Heaven came, or, more appropriately, a good-sized inheritance from his brother (which brought a whole different set of issues with it). We were able to pay off some bills and do some much-needed home repairs. Then my parents gave us a monetary gift, some of which I paid everything else off with. But these funds have to be able to be accessed in the unlikely event that they need them, so we’re putting the rest on our mortgage and refinancing it to get a better rate.

So what’s the problem? Hubby’s back to spending without thinking, without asking, and without telling me. Last week I reconciled the January bank statements. Hubby’d withdrawn anywhere from $20 to $50 every three or four days… without letting me know (we only keep enough to cover the monthly bills in the checking account - spending $100 without me knowing could easily overdraw us). Then this morning, as I’m cleaning up the kitchen counter, I find two receipts thrown in his basket, one for $11 to a liquor store near his work and one for $75 for a restaurant in the same area. I knew he’d gone out with his group for a going-away celebration for one of the guys, but I didn’t know he paid for it. When I asked what they were for, I was told he lost a football bet (the liquor) and that folks had chipped in about $25 on the bill (which he never gave me to put on the bill).

We had words this morning. I asked what he'd spent the money on. He couldn't answer me. I told him to knock off the spending or I’d take away his credit cards and give him a monthly cash allowance. He glared at me like a spoiled little boy who was told he couldn’t have his way. I am at my wit’s end. We’ve done this dance before, and no matter how I approach it, it’s an issue. Asking sweetly, begging, threatening, crying, being a bitch… it doesn’t matter how I approach it, he doesn’t get it. Once, a good friend of his tried to explain that that’s how Hubby’s parents were, but I don’t want to always be “just getting by”. And Hubby’s parents had a second home in Florida not because they saved and scrimped and didn’t eat out like my parents - they didn’t pay for any of their kids to go to college or trade school. In fact, the only one they encouraged to go to college was Hubby… on his own dime. He and I paid for all his college bills. Besides, we’ve now been together half our lives; at what point do you still get to blame your parents for not being an adult?

So, do you have a spender in your house? How do you handle it? Suggestions are welcomed, hugs are needed. I didn’t sign up for this crap.

Who's In Charge Here?

2010-01-28T12:49:00.005-05:00

Something of a flaming post today, because I'm still a little dumbfounded at what I experienced last night.

I went to the Oldest’s mid-year Curriculum Night this week, going from room to room with the other parents like a herd of sheep, listening to teachers outline what our darlings would be learning for the next five months. Then the fun began. The School Resource Officer (SRO) conducted a Facebook 101 lesson for any parents who wanted to stick around, and there were plenty who stayed. Unless you’ve been living in a cave, Facebook, Twitter, and texting are the only ways teens talk to anyone anymore. For the record, I don’t text, and I just can’t seem to care about Twitter, probably because I don’t want to know if someone just ate a sandwich… and it was a ham and cheese… on marble rye… with mustard… honey mustard.

More to the point, you mostly likely have seen the news stories of cyberbullying, some cases having led to teen suicides and lawsuits. It’s enough to make most parents shake in their boots and proclaim to the world: “No way is my kid getting one of those!” Or you can do what we and other parents have done, what one father last night crystallized by saying, “All these new social media are our kids’ reality. We need to teach them the skills to deal with them appropriately.” It is part of our job description now as parents to help our kids learn this stuff, just like we teach them how to tie their shoes and brush their teeth.

In our case, the Oldest wanted a Facebook page. Fine. I created it. The user name and password were written down in my notebook like any other account in my house. He changes it without my permission, I can and will found out and he’ll be 18 before he gets Internet access again in my house. Then he had to friend Hubby, me, and all his aunts, uncles, and cousins because they'll be policing him too. Then he could friend his friends. I check his page on a regular basis. A friend’s unacceptable language on a regular basis will result in him/her being defriended. If his friends post objectionable things, the items will be removed and I reserve the right to contact that friend and/or his/her parents. He understands that if he does something stupid, he loses FB privileges. If he really screws up and hasn’t learned his lesson, his FB page will be deleted. Oh, and his spelling and grammar will be corrected. Not too difficult, right? Just exercising my rights and practicing parental responsibility. Here’s what I heard around me:

“I told her she couldn’t have one, but she went ahead and created one anyway. So now what am I supposed to do?” “You’re telling us we should know our kid’s password. What if my daughter won’t tell me hers?” “I saw some of the posts and tried to talk to him about it, so now he’s blocked me from his page.” “What’s the school’s policy on it? What are you telling our kids about it?” “I’m not really good at this technology thing, so I don’t understand this stuff.” “But if he has the IPhone, he can go somewhere like Starbucks and they have free WiFi.”

Really, people? Here’s a thought. This is NOT a school issue, unless it's taking place in the school. The school had blocked access to FB, plus there's a rule that says your kid's phone is to be OFF and in his/her LOCKER during school hours. So they can do things like... learn. It's YOUR issue, because it's YOUR kid. The computer is, most likely, something YOU purchased. The Internet access? Paid for by… YOU. You try those excuses with the judge after the keg party is broken up at your house, they won’t fly. Because the law says that you are the adult, the parent, the one ultimately responsible for your kid’s actions.

Who's in charge in these homes? Because from what I heard, it doesn't sound like the parents. Maybe it’s time to stand up, put on your Big Grownup voice, and sit your entitled little snot down. Tell them there are rules. It may be the first time they’ve heard that phrase in your home, but trust me, they’ve heard it at school. Learn the technology. Your lack of knowledge about this stuff isn’t going to help your kid if and when they have a problem online. If they won’t give you the password or keep blocking you, contact the SRO and he’ll help. Or contact Facebook. Tell them this is your MINOR child and you want the account closed. Then start over. You may be The Worst Parent In The World and your child may Hate You Forever, but they’ll get over it. Someday they may even thank you. Like when they get that Dream Job, because the other three candidates are dismissed thanks to the HR department searching for, and finding, pictures of the first guy from Facebook when he was 16 drunk at a party, pictures of the second candidate from MySpace in her bikini underwear blowing kisses at the camera (her boyfriend REALLY liked that one, and kept it… online), and the third in a fight outside a bar… on YouTube.

And don’t worry. If your kid is being offensive online, I’ll let you know.

Shred-A-Thon 2010

2010-01-11T12:39:00.001-05:00

In the interest of starting my year off on a truly new leaf, I made a commitment to be more organized when it comes to the paper that enters my home. You know - the receipts, papers from the kids’ schools, sports registrations, coupons and sales ads, magazines and catalogs, not to mention the clipped articles and recipes and financial paperwork.

I’m a folder/boxer type of girl, meaning there’s some semblance of order to my paper chaos. Whenever I have a bunch of papers and bills and flyers, it’s sorted into labeled folders which are then piled until they threaten an avalanche. Then they’re put in a file box. Then the same labels are put on a new bunch of folders, and the process repeats itself. It creates clutter and also lends itself to a mad scramble to find the appropriate folders to do our taxes at 11:30 p.m. on April 15th.

Not this time. Beginning New Year’s Eve, I brought all the boxes, fifteen in all, into the TV room along with a long plastic banquet table for sorting. That’s right. One-Five Boxes of paper. Rental records and mortgages for a house we haven’t owned in 10 years. Tax forms from my first paid job in high school. Auto accidents and insurance appeals and roommate disputes over unpaid bills. Packing lists from vacations taken, kept to make packing for the next trip easier. The demise of my last job and the issues that led to my resignation, and the emails from the Mean Moms who ran our PTO last year and put me through Hell. Registration forms for summer camps kept as references for “next year”.

Why did I keep so much? Lots of reasons. Hubby was audited before we were married, so much of the financial records have been kept longer than needed out of fear. But honestly, do I need a car insurance policy from 2001? The pile of non-financial stuff made me take a long look in the mirror. To everyone outside my home, I’m known as the Organized Mom, the one who always knew when the games were and the registration deadlines and what books the kids should have read over the summer, because I had it printed out in front of me. But I’ve learned, mostly over the last two years since the Baby was born, there’s no thanks in that - it just makes other people lazy. Why should they remember the deadline for ordering a new uniform when they have me? The straw was when another mom not-so-jokingly scolded me for not reminding her about a particular school deadline. That’s not who I want to be, or the type of friends I need. My friends should be my friends because they like me. The ones who are just friends because of what I can do for them can go out with the shredded paper; I don’t have the time or get paid to be their own personal secretary. So I guess I’m decluttering and simplifying my life in more ways than one.

As I went through everything piece by piece, what could be recycled was. What contained personal information was put into, you guessed it, the now empty boxes, and put aside for shredding. Our town has fundraisers every year where you pay to have a huge truck shred your stuff on the spot. But quickly approaching six boxes meant I was going to have to shell out $$$ to get rid of this stuff, and find a place for it until the next event.

Then Hubby did me the greatest favor of all. Thrilled that I was finally attacking the boxes that were overtaking our home, he brought home the commercial shredder from his office. This thing is the size of an apartment-sized refrigerator (or for those of you who’ve been to Walt Disney World, the size of the frigs in the Moderate resorts). He also went to the hardware store and bought three five-packs of large paper bags, the kind you put your leaves in. And the party began.

I sat Saturday and yesterday going through everything while watching whatever Bravo and Lifetime could throw my way, and filled…NINE large bags with shredded materials. Hubby even joked about it, answering the phone all weekend with “Good morning, you’ve reached the offices of Enron.”

The demons have been exorcised. The past is shredded. I am down to 1 ½ boxes of recipes, 1 box per kid of school paperwork, handmade Mother’s Day cards, and newspaper clippings of honor rolls and team recaps, and 1 box of miscellaneous “stuff” – genealogy notes, addresses to update my address book with. Whatever else I uncover in these boxes, my little home shredder can handle.

I can breathe again. And get to work on folding the eight baskets of laundry that haven’t been touched while I’ve been cleaning out the files. Did I mention what my second New Year’s commitment is?

You Can’t Win For Trying

2009-12-10T14:04:00.000-05:00

How do you tell a friend who's convinced you're pissed with her that it's not her, it's the company she's keeping?

During a conversation last week, a friend (Mrs. X) mentioned she’d talked with another friend of ours (Mrs. Y). Mrs. Y asked if Hubby and I were angry with her and Mr. Y as we seemed to “blow them off” whenever we saw them, mentioning that Mr. Y felt somewhat snubbed by Hubby.

WTF? I didn’t understand the comments. We’ve rarely seen the Ys during the past six months. In fact, Mr. Y called the day before to invite Middle Child over (he’s good friends with their youngest), but with family holiday stuff to get done, we declined the invite, one of the first since the summer he's gotten from this friend. Let's face it, with sports, school, family obligations, and the holidays, most of us find weekends just as jam-packed as our weekdays.

There is another angle to this situation. We were all part of a group with kids in the same grades and ages that was once VERY close, a group with two rings - a few of us on the outskirts, and the Inner Core. Unfortunately, due to some backstabbing by two Inner Core couples, the group began to fracture. We’re still friendly with most of the group, even vacationing together in the summer, but not with the two couples who caused the drama.

I really don’t care who my friends are friends with. Honestly. That crap pissed me off in grade school. And in the real world, most adults have different groups of friends: the High School Friends, the Parents of the First-Kid’s-Friends, the Parents of the Middle Child’s Friends, the Work Friends, and so on. That’s fine. Would I like to be included in a Girls’ Night Out with the Ladies of the Inner Core, who still get together? Oh Hell Yes!!! But since I don’t want to deal with the Others, I’m okay with not being invited.

But how often are we supposed to suck it up when invited to a gathering at the Ys that includes people who've done us, and more importantly, our child, wrong? Who never had the guts to apologize even though they’ve admitted to others they were wrong? How do you approach it when your friends stand on the sidelines with these people, or sit with them at school functions, and expect us join in? We always talk to the Ys if we see them, but we don’t seek them out when they're with the Others. And as a coach for Middle Child’s team, Hubby was busy at practices and games… COACHING.

Hubby and I are civil, but try to limit contact with the Others. And in doing so, the Ys now seem to feel we’re ticked with them. On top of this, they had a recent loss in their family. I couldn’t go to the wake or funeral due to the distance and kids, while some, including the Other Two, made the journey. We did contribute to a floral arrangement, and a card is in the mail, but a small part of me feels I should call Mrs. Y and invite her out for lunch or a drink and discuss the situation. What’s holding me back? I have a suspicion that if I broach the subject, she’ll think I’m making her choose between friends. Hubby’s choice is to leave it alone and invite them over for Sunday dinner in the near future.

I want them to respect our decisions on who we’re friends with, just like we respect theirs, and understand we’re not angry with them. Any suggestions? Thoughts? Magic solutions?

17 Days to Go

2009-12-08T10:42:00.003-05:00

96 pictures to review to find THE Christmas picture

67 Christmas cards to finish and send

52 emails received today alone containing sales and coupons to be reviewed

6 boxes of books being donated to our public library that Hubby is dropping off today

5 baskets of laundry to fold tonight

3 batches of cookies to make this weekend

1 newsletter to draft and send out today

and… 17 days to Christmas!

No wonder I’m dragging today. It may also have something to do with the cookie swap I was at last night – wonderful hostess, great food, fun time, got some great new recipes but didn’t get home until midnight.

Besides last night, I hate that every year my holiday season seems to be less about enjoying the season and more about checking things off my To Do List. Cookies made? Check. Yankee Swap gift wrapped? Check. House and tree decorated? Check. The stress level in my house rises a degree or two more (or twenty), as both the Middle Child and I have birthdays during the first two weeks of December. Throw in a meeting or two and a football banquet, and I’m doing nothing but running from Point A to Point B, and snapping at everyone.

Where did the joy go? And how do you find time for yourself and still get everything done?

"Mom, The House Next Door's On Fire!"

2009-11-15T12:19:00.000-05:00

I learned a very important lesson yesterday. All that disaster planning we’re told we should do? All those fire drills and how to call 911 that you’re supposed to cover with your kids? The Important Documents file you should grab as you run out the door? Screw that! In that moment, I panicked and grabbed my kids and... a pair of dirty underwear! From the hamper!

I had a very early start to my day, getting up to see Hubby and the Oldest off for a Swim Meet, and starting in on my mile-long To Do List. Around 10:30, the Baby goes in for a nap, and I decide to shower and get changed. Right after the shampoo hits my head, I hear a loud bang. I yell down to the Middle Child, asking what the noise is. He comes running up the stairs yelling “The house next door is on fire!”

Keep in mind, I have no contacts in (and am blind without), a headful of suds, and am butt naked and soaking wet. I throw on a robe, run downstairs, see the flames coming from the neighbor’s back porch, and reach for the phone. As I try to see out the window through the smoke while simultaneously yelling to Middle Child to get shoes on, I realize police and fire are already on scene. So I run back upstairs to grab the Baby and my clothes. Then a male voice, a police officer, yells from downstairs “You need to get out NOW! The smoke’s getting bad!”

I scoop the Baby, run downstairs, grab my purse, the diaper bag, and Middle Child and tear out the door. It dawns on me what I look like: wet, half-washed hair, glasses on (did grab my contacts!), and attired in a fashion-making statement of Hubby’s robe under my barn coat and shoes. Oh yeah, and underwear!

The officer wisely grabs two chicken hats to put over the kids’ face because the smoke is SO bad (yeah, felt chicken hats the kids had been playing with; Hubby wore them at some corporate team-building workshoppy thing). Yeah, he’s thinking, because he’s not panicking. And the smoke? Not a campfire-smelling wood stove nice smell. It’s thick, grey, acrid smoke that’s burning my throat. He offers me his cruiser to wait in. I tell him I’m taking my kids up the street to my friend’s house. All I can think of is to get the kids away from the smoke, and to find a place to shower, dress, and then maybe begin think logically. We don’t get that far. We end up in my other next-door neighbor’s house, where I meekly ask if I can borrow a towel and her shower. If I have to go back out there, I’d prefer to not look like the woman who may or may not have just flashed half the police and fire departments.

Thankfully, my cell is in my purse. I leave a message for Hubby, the kind you leave in an emergency: “Hi! It’s me. First of all, we’re okay! But, um, the house next door is on fire, so we’re over at ____’s house.” Then I do what most adults would do: I call my Mom. And tell her we may need her to come get us. Then I shower and dress. As I come down the stairs, I hear my parents’ voices. With the Middle Child’s asthma, my mother tells me that we need to get them away from the smoke. Which is great, but the Baby’s car seat is in my van. In my driveway. Right next to the fire. And which is now blocked by a pumper engine. And my keys are in my house.

I go out and ask one of the officers if I can get to my car. As I look at this guy’s face, I realize it’s… a kid I used to babysit. So now I’m wet, smell like an ashtray, and am old. And may be a flasher. Oh, is that a news copter overhead?

He checks with the Fire Chief, and I check in with other neighbors. We had all heard the same big bang. The resident and his dog are okay thanks to another neighbor, who ran into the house to get him out – he had no idea his house was on fire. The officer comes back and escorts me to my house. I run in and have that proverbial one minute to grab the important stuff. Do I grab the birth certificates and other important papers? Photo albums? No. Do I get a coat for the Baby? No, but I do grab some clothes and the animal he can’t sleep without. I grab Middle Child’s spare inhaler, and my external backup drive. That’s it.

I run to the car, grab the car seat and backup diaper bag, and work my way through the crowd to the neighbor’s house. From there, we go to my parents, where I realize everything on me and the kids, including my fabric purse, reek of smoke. Shower again, give the kids baths, and my mom washes our clothes, while I change into one of her sweat suits.

Then we wait. It’s a small town, so calls start coming in. Hubby and the Oldest return, with the Oldest immediately begging his grandfather to go online – he’s just got to update his Facebook status with this! He quickly learns, from everyone else’s posts, that they were all down at the fire. My aunt calls. She heard the call and called my house. When I didn’t answer, she got in her car and drove over to make sure we were okay.

My mother makes lunch, and asks what I want. My response? A really big margarita with salt. My mother tells me I need to eat something. At this point, I’ll eat the lime on the margarita. I just want to cry – the adrenaline rush is wearing off, and I’m realize how lucky we were. Four hours later, we get a call from a friend who’s on the call force, who says we can go home. Now that my bra is dry (something else I really should have grabbed an extra one of!), Hubby and I leave the kids and go to see how bad it is. Luckily, it’s been pouring all day, which helped keep the fire from spreading and the smoke down. The house has an odor, but should be able to be aired out today.

So, seriously, for those of you that have done your homework… have your Hubby yell fire while you’re in the shower. Or asleep. Give yourself one minute on the stopwatch. Can you grab what you need and go? For those of you as unprepared as I now realize I am, time to do some homework.

Oooh - My First Award!!!!

2009-11-03T17:23:00.003-05:00

One of the biggest highs many of us bloggers get is when we see a new comment on a post. Some of the best laughs I have during my day are from the posts of fellow bloggers. And so I would like to thank Two Normal Moms for their comment on my recent post, letting me know that I was one of the five fellow bloggers they'd selected for the Scribbler Award.

Now the pressure's on. But first, the Scribbler Award comes with some rules I have to post:

* Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
* Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
* Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
* Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
* Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

Okay, now to share five of my favorite must-read blogs:
A Family Story
Barefoot Foodie
Blonde Mom Blog
Chicky Chicky Baby
Preteens, Toddlers, and Newborns, Oh My!

I would also like to give a shout out to my anonymous Tricia - if I knew which blog was yours, I would SO be a Follower! And one other blog I always tune into is Meredith's Picket Fence Post, which is very much like her columns - to the point, relevant, and funny.

Keep on blogging, ladies!

The First Heartbreak

2009-10-28T12:45:00.002-04:00

The Oldest was escorted to the car by two friends who informed me he'd just been dumped by the Girlfriend of two years. They've been best friends since first grade and have been “going out” since 6th. But how do you “go out” with someone you never go anywhere with?

When this “Girlfriend/Boyfriend” thing started, I asked a simple question of the Oldest: did they really like one another, or was it more of a “hey, if we say we’re ‘going out’, people will leave us alone”. He admitted it was that in the beginning, but they did like one another.

Personally, I like this young lady but I think the ages of 12, 13, and 14 are just too young to be “dating” in any form. Of course, when it comes to our kids, most of us think 15 through 20 is also too young! I also never saw her speak for herself. Her friends would tell the Oldest the Girlfriend expected him to ask her to the dance, would quiz him about what he was getting her for her birthday, and even were standing behind her when she told him they “needed take a break” because they were “at a standstill”.

I would like to believe that his actions last night spoke of the man he will be someday. He sent her an email telling her he was sorry things didn’t work out, hoped they could still be friends, and asked why she ended it because that would make him feel a little better. Her response was that she still wanted to be friends but it was getting weird between them and she hoped he wasn’t mad at her. He told me later he wasn't that upset and was sort of relieved; he'd been trying to figure out how to do the same thing without hurting her or ruining their friendship. He was more bothered that she did it in public with an audience.

Coincidentally, the subject of his own Facebook page has been on the table for the past few months. With over 85% of his class having their own (yeah, I counted), and a number of family members around the country using it to keep in touch, he was told that if he made Honors or higher on the first report card, he'd be allowed to have his own page. Rules are:
* I set it up;
* Hubby and I are his first friends;
* all relatives are friended first (and he needs to remember that when he posts);
* friends who use swears or post inappropriate material will be immediately defriended and blocked (he actually didn't ask certain people to friend him because of that rule);
* we retain the right to deactivate the account should the need arise.

And spelling counts! I already corrected his spelling of officially (he spelled it offically).

In one hour, he was friended by 59 classmates, questioned by 56 of them why his status said “single”, and was asked out by two girls in his class who were apparently thrilled to know he’s available.

And this is the start of it? I don’t know if I’ll survive this year with him, let alone high school!

Music To Drive By

2009-10-23T13:14:00.004-04:00

I know I have some wonderfully winsome, insightful posts in my head, but I can’t get them to come out today. So instead, I’m going to share the 10 songs that are on a CD in my car right now (I know, gasp, how old-fashioned, a CD player – hey, I’ve got cassette tapes too!). A rather eclectic mix, each is a favorite for a different reason. And, of course, I will play them non-stop until my kids beg me to break the CD and/or stop asking me for rides anywhere (hint hint, ladies!), and then I will replace them with another Personal Top 10.

Lovely Day – Bill Withers
The title speaks for itself. Great love song.

Breezin’ – George Benson
A song played endlessly by my parents when I was a kid. When I hear it, I can close my eyes and picture being at the beach on a summer day.

My Girl (Gone, Gone, Gone) – Chilliwack
I loved this song when it first came out, and still do. Would be great to hear them do it on “Glee”!

Call Me When You’re Sober – Evanescence
A must-sing-along song. I adore Amy Lee’s voice, and it reminds me of exactly how I felt when (and why!) I dumped my boyfriend. I met my husband one week later. Yeah, Hubby is my rebound guy!

I Gotta Feeling – Black Eyed Peas
Remember the ready-for-the-weekend songs playing on the radio while you’re getting dressed (and spending hours making your '80s hair REALLY big!) to go out on a Friday night? This one brings back THAT feeling.

Turn Up The Radio – Autograph
An ‘80s one-hit wonder, reminds me of the earlier days of MTV, when they actually played music videos - seriously, my kids don't believe that music television once actually played MUSIC! Of course, they can't understand what having six stations was like either.

No Day But Today – “Rent” Soundtrack
The lyrics say it all, the harmonies are beautiful, and this is the song that brings me to tears (that and “I'll Cover You”) in the theatre.

Jai Ho (You Are My Destiny) – A.R. Rahman with Pussycat Dolls
Something about the song appeals to me.

How Do You Sleep – Jesse McCartney
I’ve always liked his music, which is more pop than rock or hip-hop. Now if he can just learn the words to the National Anthem…

Don’t Stop Believing – “Glee” Cast
‘Nuf said. Loved the song when Journey first released it, love acapella, love “Glee”.

What are your Today’s Top 10? What’s in heavy rotation at your house?

Speech Delayed

2009-10-18T00:21:00.001-04:00

Wow! I'm still feeling like someone's slapped me. I was having a Pity Party the other day, and I should have known better than to whine. Because that’s when Life drops off a load of bricks right…on…your…foot!

Hubby greeted me at work with the Baby in tow (we trade off in the afternoon; he works second shift). The Baby had had his 20 month checkup, so I was expecting the regular lowdown. Instead, I spied with my little eye a phone number on what looked like the doctor’s notepaper. It was a phone number, for Early Intervention. While the Baby is on target or ahead of almost everything, the one area he is not ahead in is speech.

The Baby’s rather traumatic birth at thirty-seven weeks left me worrying that something would be wrong from the start. I can’t explain it. I just knew something was wrong. When he started to crawl, I was thrilled. When he started to walk, I was overjoyed. When he started to say “Dada” and “Mama”, I thought, okay, we’re on the road. But still, with the Middle Child not being diagnosed with dyslexia until halfway through first grade, I never entertained the thought that we were free and clear.

Now this. I was concerned that the Baby, unlike my other two who were in full-time daycare from infancy, would fall short in some of the areas where constant exposure to kids the same age pays off. The Middle Child hadn’t talked as early as the Oldest, but part of it was that he had an older brother who translated, but I also had a daycare teacher who told me he was on track. The Baby makes sounds, some more coherent than others, but very few real words. I had mentioned to Hubby that our gym has a preschool and a babysitting room, where the Baby could play with other kids, quite a few months ago; the Baby’s temper is pretty strong, and I thought socializing might help. There’s also the library, and the town’s center for children, all with morning programs for toddlers. But there were a million reasons why he couldn’t do any of those things. Now there isn’t the choice; he’s going to have to work out a schedule and make the commitment. I'll try to schedule the speech therapists for the afternoon when I'm home.

Keep your fingers crossed. And if you’ve had experience with Early Intervention for speech delays in toddlers, PLEASE – I want to hear about the good, the bad, and the ugly. I need to hear about it. I function best when I’ve researched a situation and can ask questions. Help!

Not the Blogger Flu, But...

2009-10-16T12:36:00.006-04:00

A lot of fellow bloggers have been commenting about the "Blogger Flu". I don't have that yet, but I’m in a very whiny mood today. I have a scratchy throat, haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in four nights (because I keep falling asleep on the couch, and there’s no moving me short of a forklift), and just can’t get warm. It doesn’t help that we had snow flurries this morning and a nor’easter is coming into town.

Wah. Wah. Wah. Here’s my "I'm Feeling Sorry For Myself" List:

My calendar has no white space on it.
The Yard Sale That Wasn’t was has been rescheduled for the fourth time to next Sunday, come Hell, high water, or a cookout my husband wants us to go to. He who is not LIFTING A #$@@%^ FINGER to help!
I’m sick and tired of people doing half-assed work, particularly those with jobs on my dime! The swim team administration who can’t answer a call or email unless you call the Head Coach, the teacher who still can’t get that supplies can’t be had on a moment’s notice, not if I’m supplying them and not if they weren’t on the supply list to begin with; the music department that can’t tell you anywhere else you can rent an instrument other than Instrument Night, when the same vendor has a store two towns over.
The football coaches can’t decide when to switch practice to the field with the lights, so Middle Child is risking life and limb running plays in the dark.
The friends who’ve been told constantly that Hubby works second shift still greet me with, “Hey, where’s Hubby tonight?” Way to make me feel like you give a rat’s ass, guys!
The H1N1 flu is driving me crazy. I’m apprehensive to give my kids a vaccine that I personally think hasn’t been tested enough. At the same time, I heard this morning our elementary school has at least one case, but no notice has been sent home. It’s like head lice - you know it’s out there and you keep your eyes open, but when that notice comes home, you start checking more diligently.
Planning of my upcoming high school reunion is just getting underway thanks to SOME people; still dealing with the Mean Girl 25 years later is NOT what I ever envisioned. She and two other “officers” decided NOT to have a 25th reunion. Once she got wind that the other class (we do joint reunions with them) was going to have one anyway and invite my class, she changed her tune. Now she’s complaining about how she doesn’t want to plan it or attend. Fine, don’t help and don’t come! But don’t tell us we can’t have one!
The Baby’s approaching two, so the “I just had a baby” excuse for my weight doesn’t work anymore. I’m not happy that I’ve put on five pounds since September. I’m trying to get more organized so I can set aside time for at least Wii Fit (that’s still in the box from last Christmas) and my Bean (still in the box from the Christmas before). Even if I could lose 15 before the reunion, I can squeeze the rest into Spanx or something like that.
My back is killing me from single-handedly taking two window air conditioners out yesterday and putting them away in the garage. I’ve only mentioned it EVERY WEEKEND since Labor Day, but Hubby couldn’t find the time. Had to be done - the wind was whistling through them the other night when we had our first FREEZE!

Okay, I’m done whining. Thanks for letting me get all that off my chest! The weekend should be a little better. Nothing on the plate except a football game on Sunday. Tonight, one practice is already cancelled, so I’ve only got one place to be. Tomorrow, I’m taking my coffee, a radio, and a space heater if needed, out to the garage and pricing stuff for the yard sale. Hopefully by Sunday I’ll have a better handle on things and can have a calm week.

Enjoy your weekend, and if you need to whine too, please, go ahead and post your whines in Comments!

The Fair

2009-10-09T22:05:00.007-04:00

The Oldest has hit the teen years, and some experiences are replays of my own life in this small town. Like tonight. I'm now in the seat my mother once sat in, watching him walk across the road towards the fairgrounds, all of them turning to wave at the Baby.

This year, he asked to go to our local fair with friends. We went last weekend as a family, but this is something of a rite of passage in these parts. All the middle school and high school kids get dropped off in their team sweatshirts and school jackets and wander the fairgrounds, eating greasy fair food, going on the rides, playing midway games.

I remember going with my friends at the same age. The excitement of walking through the gates without parents, the chill of the air, the cold mud sucking at our boots and sneakers (we were smart enough to dress for warmth and comfort, not for fashion – of course, the Preppy Handbook era helped, with its' dress code of duck boots and Northern Isle sweaters!). The year one of the girls went on the swings, got off, and promptly lost her supper in a nearby trash can. The flirting with boys from other towns. The flirting with boys from our own town. The one girl carrying three humungous stuffed animals her boyfriend has won her. The thrill of closing the place down, walking down the midway and out the main gate as the lights on the rides were shutting off.

With prompting from a few of us moms, our kids sorted out who would get rides to and from with who, and, despite the rain showers, they all piled into assorted vehicles and hit the road in the early evening. My van was at full capacity thanks to the added attraction of the Baby coming along for the drop-off. He’s become something of an unofficial mascot for the Oldest’s class; the suggestion has been made of selling 8x10 pics of him as a fundraiser for the class!

I listened to the conversation as we traveled towards the fairgrounds: Do you want to get something to eat first or go on rides? Which rides make you sick? Where was everyone meeting up? Who else is going? I rolled to a stop across from the main entrance, and the doors opened. As my van emptied and I watched them walk through those main gates, all I could think of was how much fun they were in for tonight!

It almost made me want to have Hubby meet me there after work, throw him in a varsity jacket, and hit the Ferris Wheel! Then I realized the rain was picking up, and that a nice warm house was just a car ride home…

TGIT (Thank God It's Thursday)

2009-10-08T23:43:00.004-04:00

I can't wait for Friday this week. It's been one of “those” weeks, where making it to Thursday and still standing is HUGE. Did anyone else notice the full moon earlier this week? Or the effects it perhaps had on your lives? That’s the only thing I can attribute the past 72 hours to, because if it wasn’t the full moon, I’m leaving. On a jet plane. Don’t know where I’ll go. Don’t know when I’ll be back again. Seriously.

In my world, the past three days were the kind that bring moms to their knees, wondering whose friggin’ idea it was to bring these demanding people who calling you “Mom” into your world. Yeah, it was his fault. That, and that bottle of red wine. Or white. After you got a whiff of your friend’s newborn’s “new baby” smell.

Challenge #1 - The Middle Child’s asthma/allergies are in full swing. He’s got Medicine-Head and I'm talking to a space cadet most of the time. Unfinished homework that wasn’t “found” until five minutes before the bus came, a kid who can waste time away like no one’s business, chores undone, clothes left in the hallway after changing for practice. Ugh!

Challenge #2 - the Oldest is in the I-have-an-opinion-about-everything stage and he's not afraid to share. Not so bad, but the constant questioning of every request I make is. And he wants to go to the local fair with friends tomorrow night. However, these arrangements couldn’t be accomplished without drama, because 1) they all think their parents would be happy to schlep them down one by one into the Hellhole that is the fair traffic, and 2) the I-don't-know-when-I'm-going-when-do-you-want-to-go conversations. None of them would make a friggin' decision of when they wanted to go and who would get a ride with whom. So I did. I picked a time, called a few of the parents, and will be driving a full van down tomorrow night. Even better, I got my kid a ride home!

Challenge #3 - the Baby is SPOILED!!! His father and brothers have a very bad habit of always wanting to be the good guy with this child. Now he's used to getting whatever he wants when he wants it, so afternoons with me have turned into a screamfest because I'm don’t the same. He thinks the louder he screams, the faster I'll give in. He's in for a rude awakening - you're never too young to learn the way to get things in my house is NOT to behave like a brat.

Add to that:

a run-in with one of the orchestra teachers on the Middle Child's "Instrument Night",
the discussion with the Oldest's coach about ongoing issues,
Hubby's inability to complete simple tasks this week, like checking to make sure you have ALL the cleaning before you leave the store,
Hubby’s frequent excuse for not getting something done being "the Baby wouldn't cooperate" (and somehow I get things done even with Mr. Uncooperative in tow!),
that yard sale I SO need to have sometime soon is not happening this weekend due to family conflicts; despite many of the same conflicts, it HAS to be next weekend (weekend after is Halloween and I'm NOT waiting until November to clear out that damn garage!),
a few PTO-related jobs that desperately need attention, all communication/media-related, including writing the newsletter and polishing up the website.

I am fried. The moon is no longer full. Tomorrow is another day. G’night!

And I Thought I Hated Housecleaning

2009-10-05T23:48:00.008-04:00

My girlfriends and I often joke about favorite shortcuts we’ve learned to keeping a clean house. Here's the top three:

1) Win the lottery and hire a cleaning team.
2) Win the lottery and just move, leaving everything behind.
3) 10 gallons gasoline, 1 match, and you're good to go.

Then this story was on the news last month about a woman who was charged with arson after her mansion burned down. According to reports, she actually admitted to firefighters and a policeman that she had set the fire because she was "sick of the house" and "wanted to let it burn". The officer noted there was jewelry, keepsakes, and children’s photos in her car on the scene when they arrived.

I think she was just tired of being the only one trying to keep up with the cleaning. Or she was really into decluttering - just take whatever fits in the car.

Kindly Allow 48 Hours for Processing

2009-09-30T14:43:00.002-04:00

The great thing about blogging is finding other posts you can SO relate to. Jennie at Preteens, Toddlers, and Newborns, Oh My! posted about her recent experience involving the "oh, yeah, and I need to have X, Y, and Z by tomorrow morning" adrenaline rush that we’ve all experienced at least once.

And if you haven’t, stop smirking. I mean it! Trust me, your little darling will pop it on you at some point before ~~the cops take him away~~ ~~she gets kicked out of the house~~ he or she graduates high school. Or middle school. Hell, most of us get it in grade school, usually in the form of “Mom, I told Mrs. So-and-So you could make the cupcakes/chaperone the field trip/sew costumes for the play by tomorrow, right?!?” Did I mention this takes place at 9:39 p.m. and it's a 20-minute drive to the store that closes at 10:00?

Personal responsibility must be taught; same with fiscal responsibility. Just reading the news reports about Gen X, Gen Y, and the Millennials tells you those generations are seriously lacking in those departments. Even now the parenting experts are doing 180°s, telling us that our kids need parents, not best friends, and rules and boundaries, not all-encompassing freedom.

But the way most of us were taught – chores, keeping track of our own things, doing our own projects, earning our own money – is still not the norm. So, how do you teach your kids personal responsibility these days? How do you get through the daily grind?

From the battlefront, a few of my rules.

1) You lose it, you pay to replace it
Started years ago when the Oldest lost 3 beach towels, a swim suit, and a pair of beach shoes in one summer at day camp. An Old Navy sweatshirt went missing the second day of school. Imagine his horror when I had him bring his money to the mall that weekend, marched into Old Navy, picked out the same sweatshirt, and demanded his money on the spot. He'd been saving for a Nintendo game. One more incident involving a lunchbox and he’s been good since. The Middle Child has learned from his big brother and has been able to hold onto his money.

2) The Not-Mom's To Do List
I have my daily to-do list. Everyone else has the Not-Mom's To Do List. I don't care who does it. Just get it done. Teaches great negotiation skills too!

3) If it isn’t on the calendar, it doesn’t exist
I update the family calendar constantly and we all review the week’s schedule on Sundays. Everything is on it, including class projects. You're responsible to make sure it's on the calendar, or I’m not doing it.

4) Project Management
Still working on how to break up a project and plan out the steps. The final step includes making their personal due date to finish three days before the project is really due.

5) The school’s deadline isn’t Mom’s deadline
Sort of builds on #7, but includes first day paperwork - if the school wants it back the next morning, either send it via USPS the week before school starts or make the forms available on the website. Look at it this way: if you were traveling, in the hospital, or worked second shift (like my hubby!), would they expect you to FedEx the paperwork back to them?

Now, if you’re just sitting in the bottom of the closet with a cheesecake and a bottle of Kahlua, that’s a different story.

6) The crafts store isn’t open at 1:30 a.m.
What ticks you off more? The intricate supply-laden projects assigned by the school that we're then expected to come up with the supplies for, or the expectation that we can drop everything else to drive on a moment’s notice to a store three towns over for those supplies.

Perfect example - last week, the Oldest was assigned a timeline project on Wednesday. Due date of Thursday. To be done on posterboard (NOT on the supplies list). We won’t get into the personal photos that were needed, or the color prints that he was asking for.

Now fast becoming an urban legend, a new student in the class told her mother that evening about the project and supply requirements. Rather than dropping everything to go get posterboard, the mother wrote the teacher the following note:

As you did not allow adequate notice of supplies that were needed for this project, you will give my daughter a one-day extension on this project and will not penalize her in any way because of your poor planning. If you should need to discuss this with me, I can be reached at ###-###-####. In the future, please allow at least one week’s notice for projects and supplies.

My Hero!!!

The entire class got an extra day.

Putting His Man Hat On

2009-09-29T12:30:00.003-04:00

Hubby and I finally got away for a weekend (two WHOLE nights) without the kids. Most of you understand how HUGE that is, so I won't dwell on it here. We had some (sorely needed) fun and enjoyed our alone time. And then he went and put his Man hat back on….

I took yesterday off from work, knowing I’d have a lot to catch up on at home. I also wanted to get a jump on sorting the stuff for our Columbus Day weekend yard sale; this coming weekend is already full of our all-day excursion to the local fair and kids’ games. And, knowing because Hubby would be home with the Baby, I rescheduled my teeth cleaning appointment. Thinking I'd be a nice person, I told Hubby he should drive over around 11:30 so I could take my car and Baby and he could get to work earlier than normal. I also asked him to return the jeans that he'd bought himself at Target that didn’t fit. The pair that he didn’t try on at the store and that in no way was going to fit because he hasn’t had THAT waist size in five years. I didn’t say the last sentence out loud to him, but give me a break! I don’t buy clothes two sizes too small, so why is he?!?

That’s it. Drive over, return jeans, come to the dentist’s office. Can you guess what he didn’t do?

That’s right. He didn’t return the jeans.

His reason? “He (meaning the Baby) wasn’t cooperating.”

He (meaning the Baby) is 20 months old. Short of commandeering the car, walking into the store and making the return himself, I don’t understand how the Baby wasn’t cooperating. He wasn’t screaming at the top of his lungs, he wasn’t throwing a tantrum. He was…

Sleeping. That’s what Hubby told the girls at the front desk, when he didn’t think I could hear him.

WTF?!?! What does he think I do? The Baby is carried along and naps wherever he can, thanks to having two older siblings and the family schedule we do.

And who do you think ended up returning the jeans?

Clean Sweep

2009-09-19T22:55:00.004-04:00

Today...

9 hours
19 bags of clothes and linens
17 boxes of toys, puzzles, kitchenwares
3 wooden bed frames
3 metal bed frames
2 bureaus
2 night stands
2 bookcases
7 framed pictures
1 foot-pedal sewing machine base
1 Victorian parlor chair in need of reupholstering
1 air conditioner
assorted odds and ends
1 lawn mower

All organized for our yard sale. Before you say, "yard sales are a waste of time", I don't mind having one every few years. And my garage is now neat and swept clean. The older I get, the less I want to own, the more organized I want to be, and the neater I like things kept.

OMG, I am turning into my mother!

The 9 hours outside was worth it, because my husband, after I did my best "Clean Sweep" impression and moved everything OUT of the garage into our driveway (and most of the backyard too!), looked at all of the stuff and said "I can't believe there was that much stuff in there. I'm sort of disgusted!'

My mouth dropped open. A mosquito flew in. I half-swallowed it, choked, and spit it out. He finally realized how much STUFF we had!

Trust me. This is funny. Hysterical. Because at least 60% of the stuff is from his parents' home (we helped his dad moved out last fall after his mom died, and Dad left the cleaning out to us) and his brother's apartment (we helped his dad clean it out after his brother died last winter). The other 40% are kids' things that the Baby has outgrown or the Oldest and the Middle Child want to get rid of (and I have no interest in keeping for the Baby).

HIS mouth dropped open when I mentioned the other 20+ boxes downcellar to bring out. His mouth closed when I told him that can wait until next week. There's also 5 boxes of my grandmother's children's books to list for estimates and an entire house to declutter to add to the pile.

What did I mind today? The lawn mower that he agreed to sell. Because we already have a perfectly good mower that was used this morning. This is the EXTRA one.

Who has a BACKUP lawn mower?!?

Even worse? I don't know why we ever had two in the first place.

The World of Barely Getting’ By

2009-09-18T16:19:00.004-04:00

A few moms have posted about starting the school year and how you go from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. New to the “Kids in School” group, Alex at New England Mamas called it “Beginning of the School Year Fatigue” in a recent post, asking advice from seasoned moms.

I call it “The World of Barely Getting’ By”, and I don’t got much. Like everyone else, I’m hanging on by a thread. The only way I manage my Daily Grind is to make lists of EVERYTHING, clutch my calendar close to my chest, and be the mom that is very awake and productive at 11:42 p.m. – but I can’t function in the mornings anyway, so the late nights are a must.

Working mostly in academic offices my whole adult life means I’ve been living the school year cycle since kindergarten (DON’T start counting the years!!!), so it wasn’t as much of a shock when my kids started school. I can tell you it does take planning and organization to stay ahead of the rolling boulder, the constant pressure many of us feel because, truly, if you don’t sign and return those 27 forms by 9:01 on the second morning of school, you will be marked as The Worst Parent the Teacher Has Ever Experienced.

It doesn’t help that the schools do not ease you into the cycle. You’re slammed on the first day with a mountain of forms, calendars, and requests for info the government doesn’t even know about you! Add into the mix sports, curriculum nights (no kids allowed, of course), fall fairs, and game schedules, and you’re talking bring-you-to-your-knees-make-your-head-spin stress.

My hints? Besides “pack/prepare/do EVERYTHING you can the night before” and “use the Crockpot”, these are a few tried-and-true ones I have come to live by. They may not help, but I’ve never been told they’ve hurt!

The forms? If the schools have any forms in common, fill one out, leaving out the child-specific info like DOB, make copies, then fill in the rest. Saves tons of writing!

When pulling school supplies together, make two folders for each kid: one for corrected schoolwork (in case you’ve got a teacher who can’t remember your kid DID turn in those three major papers), and one for all the forms, handbooks, and other items. Mine get bulky because I don’t clean them out until the end of the year, but they have saved the day on a few occasions!

Carry a calendar, paper or electronic, keep it updated, and write EVERYTHING on it – appointments, birthdays, things to buy, to-do lists. Once a week (I do it Sundays), copy the appointments and important dates to a big family calendar somewhere in your house where those other people who live with you can see it. Don’t get me wrong - they’ll still ask you, but after 10,000 “don’t ask me, look at the calendar” responses, mine look like they’re starting to get it.

Don’t constantly feel like you need to be doing! If you find you’ve got an afternoon where both kids are in school or at practice, make it YOUR time. Take a walk, read a book, or go for a cup of coffee with another mom – do something that recharges your batteries! I didn’t learn this one until recently, and it helps keep things in perspective. Even staying at a practice talking to other moms helps!

Brace yourself - the rest of the year will be like a rollercoaster ride. The ride starts out fast in September with back-to-school, lulls in October, and then picks up speed through Halloween, Thanksgiving, and onto through Christmas and New Year’s. Winter seems to even things out, then it picks up speed in the spring, rushes through May into June when school lets out, and then there’s a month or two to catch your breath before it all starts up again!

Did I mention I hate rollercoasters?

Snippets of Conversation

2009-09-16T11:48:00.004-04:00

Too much is running around my brain that I wanted to write about today, and now I’m at a loss. So this post is a memory dump, snippets from my too-full brain.

Kids talking back, ignoring their parents and their coaches, busy schedules, being the only person in a five-person household who seems to notice the milk that’s been left out or the boxers left in the hallway because, hey Mom, where else would I change into my uniform? Okay, make it four-person, because I can’t hold a toddler responsible for emptying the trash and loading the dishwasher. But give me a few months…

The recent Kanye West/Serena Williams/Rep. Joe Wilson displays of rudeness. A huge round of applause to Beyonce Knowles for inviting Taylor Swift to the VMA stage to have her moment – lady, you got class!

The PITAE (Pain-In-The-Ass Entitled) parents who pay no attention to any of the rules of the schools or teams, arriving late, parking in the pick-up lane, taking up two parking spots – what ever happened to personal responsibility? I can’t wait to see how far your apples have fallen from your trees.

The PITAE swim team administration that can’t get summer event scores entered for the second year in a row - I don’t notice a discount on my bill when my kid doesn’t get the same services as your handful of superstars.

The PITAE school administrators who don’t proof materials before sending them out. Event dates in the newsletter were “misprints”, the email list was “screwed up”, the server was down – every excuse for not doing the job. And my kid loses points if he doesn’t have a two-pocket three-pronged folder for math (even though it was in his locker, it wasn’t in hand)?!?

The liberals’ constant insistence that if you don’t support anything the current administration does, it’s automatically because you’re a racist – FYI, I ALSO have the right to draw my own conclusions and hold my own opinions, even if they don’t agree with yours. That all our politicians are wasting more time bickering and name-calling (and MONEY) than doing their damn jobs, which is representing the voters!

And yes, Little Mr. Superstar’s dad, I’m the parent who yelled at your kid last night on the football field after practice. Since you don’t seem to pay attention to much, let me clarify. I told your kid to knock it off, get his equipment, and clear the field – two players in the past week were injured to the extent they’re each out for the season. Both injuries DID NOT occur during a game or practice – they happened when players were horsing around on the sidelines. My son and I were walking to the car when your kid yelled at him to join in. When I said “no”, he came running at us full-speed – next time I’ll not only yell at him, I’ll sidestep him and throw him to the ground (moves I have thanks to my brother, who thought I would make a great tackling dummy, and the girls on my Powder Puff team).

The death of another icon from my youth, Patrick Swayze - I wanted to be Baby, twirling around in those arms. I watched his interview with Barbara Walters last night and got weepy, particularly when you heard his voice reciting his vows to his wife when they renewed them recently; their love was evident through it all.

The garden that I need to finish clearing out; most of the plants were trampled by the roofers, so I don’t have to wait for the first frost. The calendar in front of me, that is already full to Thanksgiving. I desperately need to finish decluttering my house and have a yard sale. I think I’m going to take some time off of work in order to finish that task. I know it sounds like a waste of perfectly good vacation time, but I could use a break.

Now that I look over this post, let's call it what it is - a bitch session!

Enjoy the day!

First Day Back

2009-09-01T12:06:00.002-04:00

Hear the sound of joyful laughter rolling over the hills?!? It’s parents who’ve just put their kids on the bus for the first day of school. Parents like my Hubby, who’s been humming “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” all weekend, and who greeted the bus driver this morning with rousing applause, because as much as we love our kids and they love us, we’re all glad summer’s over.

Last night, lunches were made, summer assignments printed, backpacks packed, and clothes laid out in anticipation of the Big Day. I even embarrassed the Oldest this morning by insisting First Day Pictures be taken. My kids were looking forward to today for lots of reasons. The Oldest couldn’t wait; summer puts a damper on his social life, making his daily audience unavailable (well, yeah, they were sort of available – lying around my house on the hot days playing Wii, chatting online, on the cell phone at all hours). The Middle Child, whose favorite subjects at school are lunch, recess, and gym, was happy to be going back to his friends too (and getting away from his bossy big brother and nagging mother). He is guardedly optimistic about his new teacher, so I can’t wait to hear what his first impression is. Even the Baby was happy to get all the attention to himself, and no one turned Curious George off to play a video game!

I’m looking forward to the return of the School Routine. It’s hectic and different from my Summer Routine, but the faster rhythm helps a list-making planner like me, and back-to-school demands (new clothes and school supplies, set dinnertimes and bedtimes) have enabled me to unclutter the house even more. But that’s a blog for another day. For now, raise your coffee cups as we toast the big yellow buses and the little red schoolhouses!

Senator Kennedy

2009-08-26T12:23:00.009-04:00

I was awake at 3:00 a.m. this morning, unable to sleep and folding laundry, when the news broke: Senator Edward M. Kennedy, my Senator, had died.

Like so many, I didn't know Ted Kennedy personally but feel as though I did. He's held that office my entire life, and I've had the pleasure of contacting his office on a number of occasions, most often to request a letter of congratulations for a 50th wedding anniversary or a retirement (a mandatory task if you're first- or second-generation Irish Catholic in these parts). No matter who I spoke with, I was never made to feel as though I was bothering them, that my request was too small to trouble a U.S. Senator with. He was from the old school of politics, where the phrase “all politics is local” truly meant something.

As a middle-class working mom, I appreciate all that he did for us and our children – so many acts and laws that affect our families’, and particularly our children’s, health and education, had his stamp, his touch, on them. He even appeared on an episode of PBS’ “Fetch!”, epitomizing the idea that no constituent is too young.

And while I often didn't agree with his stances on certain issues, I admired the man. Somehow, in the days where personal issues derail the majority of political aspirations, he was able to maintain two identities in public; his fallible personal persona and the political “Liberal Lion”. Somehow his private life and its ups and downs never fully derailed his political career.

What struck me more, what I think reached most of us and kept us voting him back to the Senate term after term, was not so much the Kennedy name but the glimpses of his personal side during times of joy and tragedy: his voice quivering when delivering his brother Bobby’s eulogy or his mother Rose’s, Jackie leaning against him after he walked Caroline down the aisle, his shoulders slumped as he watched his sons and nephews carry the coffin of his nephew JFK Jr.’s off the ship after it had been recovered, the defiant joy on his face and his nieces’ tears as he addressed the 2008 Democratic National Convention against doctors’ orders. You could relate to the joys and the losses that he and his entire family had to publically share. And most of us realized, when he was unable to attend his own sister Eunice's funeral a few weeks ago, how close he was to the end of his battle.

One commentator early this morning commented on what this loss would mean to the Kennedy family, noting that for many of “The Next Generation” who had lost their dads so early on, Ted had been their father figure through the years. He was their “Teddy”, their uncle, present at all the graduations and weddings, at the family’s celebrations and when they mourned. Having lost loved ones, most of us have an idea of just how big a hole there is today in the lives of his wife, his children and grandchildren, his sister, his nieces and nephews, and his friends and staff.

God Bless You, Senator Ted Kennedy. May you be welcomed into the loving arms of all who have gone before you, and watch over those left behind.

Think of All the Free Time!

2009-08-25T11:48:00.008-04:00

Okay, Bitch Session Time. When this happened, I Googled for other bloggers who'd gone through something like it but couldn't find many, so in the interest of letting other moms (and dads) know they're not alone, I'm posting this. If you find it, make a comment - we'll share stories from the PTO/PTA front lines.

I alluded in earlier posts to some crap that went on this year between me and a couple of "Mean Moms". When I say "crap", I mean nasty back-stabbing bully tactics from one in particular, tactics that resulted in my seeking legal counsel to resign as Treasurer from this group while protecting myself from fallout if a government agency conducts an audit (if anyone works for the IRS, please contact me!!!!), all because MeanMom spent money without the group’s approval.

How bad was it? When the attorney you’ve just presented everything to, including your report listing the basketful of issues that exist with the previous TWO years’ financial records, asks when you’d like to file a whistle-blower lawsuit against them (once he stops laughing at the mess he sees in front of him), you know you’re in the right. But that only helps a little when you’re dealing with rumors swirling that you must have screwed with the books because why else would the PTO head be telling you you’re “fired” from your volunteer position (even though her screwing with the books is the issue).

The simplest way to describe the situation? Without realizing how similar she was to a rabid pit bull, MeanMom was allowed to gain control of our PTO two years ago, and now she’s figured a way to retain her position as Dictator. How? No one ever paid attention to the original bylaws put in place almost 10 years ago, a very generic set never approved by our group. Add to that no corporate minutes, no noted certificate of votes, no records, period, for these past 10 years. In the Real World, companies that behave like this end up with their executives being led into courtrooms in handcuffs.

It hit the fan last year. MeanMom spent over $5K on a project without PTO approval (the majority were against the project when discussed). She was called out at the first meeting and came back at us like a bat out of Hell, telling us we approved it (at a meeting at a private home after three hours and four bottles of wine). Of course, there’s no record of any vote, no attendance… you get my drift, right?

A month later, both MeanMom and I finally get a copy of the bylaws from the accountant and former Treasurer of our group (talk about a conflict of interest!); he had done the original filing. MeanMom starts using the bylaws to gain absolute control of everything including the PTO checkbook. The year ended with my resigning and her announcing to the group that she will decide the future course of our PTO.

Now, since every cloud has a silver lining, there’s a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, yahdah-yahdah-yahdah… the majority of committee chairs and worker bees have resigned rather than work with MeanMom. Some who still want to raise money for the school are considering forming their own non-profit group. Shots continue from MeanMom and her new BFF, Checkbook Girl, but they’ve already spent more money without approval this summer, repeating what started the eruption in the first place. And look at all the free time I've gained NOT having to be at meetings and events!

Time will tell if the rats go down with the ship. I can only hope that what goes around truly comes around, and that Karma, the Bitch that she can be, is on my side this time.

Back-To-School Budget Shopping

2009-08-24T14:07:00.005-04:00

School clothes shopping and kids’ clothing in general has been the topic of many a blog lately: Christina at A Mommy Story asked if how parents are handling the back-to-school spending, while Rachel at SmallNotebook had some great ideas for organizing kids’ clothing.

At our house, school supplies are purchased and in the backpacks, and back-to-school clothes shopping is now 99% done. Just shoes and sneakers to buy, and a coat for the Oldest once L.L. Bean comes out with their Winter catalogue. I highly recommend L.L. Bean – they will take back anything that you’re not happy with, which works well when the “never-going-to-fail zipper” comes apart on the Middle Child’s backpack.

I have a number in my head but not a set budget. Circulars are gleaned and coupons are ferreted out for school supplies. For clothes, I have final veto, having learned a long time ago that the basics will never go out of style (khakis, white shirts, more conservative preppy-style), saving you money and letting hand-me-downs not stick out like sore thumbs. But I have sons - for those of you with daughters, I don't know how you do it!

We started yesterday morning trying on clothes and came up with a basic shopping list. Very few items were needed despite recent growth spurts; the Oldest is up a size and the Middle Child jumped two whole sizes! Being a clearance rack junkie, I had a lot on hand from recent finds (long-sleeved Polo rugby shirts for $2.97 was my last score). The Oldest did need pants and dress shorts, a few long-sleeve collared dress shirts, and socks and boxers. The Middle Child was thrilled when we told him that he would not need to try any clothes on during our excursion - he’s got plenty of decent hand-me-downs, and is still of the age where he has very few opinions about what he wears.

The Oldest does care and is finally in men’s sizes, making the shopping this year somewhat different. Despite my TJ Maxx and Marshall’s finds being “labels” (Ralph Lauren, Joseph Abboud), I was informed that the only one that counted was “Sean John”. So we have come to some agreement. There is a budget. If he doesn’t like it, I will do what my father did so long ago to end my arguing with my mother over clothes shopping: he will receive an allowance and be in charge of his own choices, or he could trust my shopping skills, honed from years of Yankee frugality and bargain-basement shopping. Being a smart kid (and with prodding from his father), he told me he'd go with the latter.

We agreed that stores like American Eagle would be visited so long as it's understood I'm shopping clearance. Abercrombie & Finch, Hollister, or Ruehl are out after a recent mall stroll - if I can’t see it due to poor lighting, can’t think due to the loud music, or the sales staff can’t be bothered to smile at me because they’re too busy standing around amongst the disheveled racks, I won’t spend my money there. I’ve worked retail before; the reason you’re there is the customer and the sale, not to look bored. Oh, and I won’t money on jeans with holes in them; I can do that myself with a razor, and did the last time that was the fashion during the ‘80s to my own jeans!

The rare jewels? American Eagle - greeted when I walked in, and salespeople were busy making sure the sizes were in proper order, even on the clearance racks. Old Navy – can always find great chinos there, and again, sales people doing their jobs. The score? Filene’s Basement – three whole racks of AE goods, costing at least $10 less than what we’d just seen. A few other stops, and we were done.

The best idea of the day? When we got home, I laid all of it out on the couch. First, I called Hubby in. When I told him the amount, he almost swallowed his tongue. The youngest of eight, he made a comment that his mother wouldn’t have spent that much on ALL the back-to-school shopping for him and his siblings combined! Then the Oldest was called in, and presented with the grand total: $261.97. At first, he was impressed that we had bought: 3 “hoodies” (aka zip-front sweatshirts), 4 pair pants, 3 pair jeans, 3 pair cargo shorts, 3 long-sleeved dress shirts, 1 short-sleeve collared shirt, 7 pair boxers, and 7 pair socks.

Then I explained that that didn’t cover the rest of his shirts, t-shirts, athletic shorts, sweatpants, sneakers, shoes, belts, concert or team uniforms, or winter gear (coat, hat, boots, gloves). We wanted him to understand how lucky he is, and Hubby told him the only reason he got what he did was because I could sniff out a bargain, so he’d best take care of what he’s got. That, and he has two younger brothers who need to wear the hand-me-downs!

So, how’s your back-to-school shopping going? What have your recent shopping experiences been, good or bad? Do you have a “hidden jewel” of stores that you return to again and again? Let me know!

Weekend Game Plan

2009-08-21T12:37:00.007-04:00

The roofers finished yesterday so I can go home today; the hammering was a little on the loud side (headache-inducing would be the appropriate phrase), so we’ve been hiding out at my parents’ house until the guys went home. That wasn’t much better, as the folks are having their house sanded and painted – the sounds from the sanding were like listening to the drill in a dentist’s office.

And no practice tonight for Middle Child, which will free up my afternoon. The Oldest is sitting for our friends tonight, so I’ll stay up until he’s home, giving me a nice chunk of time to get going on my “To Dos”. With the heat, staying cool to precedence over getting things done this week, so I need a little motivation. Maybe if I post it here I’ll actually get it done; knowing it’s out there in the Black Hole that is the Internet may make me get of my butt!

1. Go through kids’ clothes and make list of what we need to buy. Sneakers are already on the list, but I’m not sure what still fits due to recent growth spurts.

2. Have kids give me preferred school lunch lists. School lunch prices are going up another 50¢ to $3, so they’ll be brown-bagging it this year. Three dollars may not sound like a lot, but even Hubby was shocked when I pointed out that school lunches would run just over $1100 for the year. And since variety is needed (because how many days in a row will you eat a ham-and-cheese-on-white-bread sandwich?), each was told to come up with 10 lunch ideas so that the lunch menus can be planned along with the dinner menus (and the shopping list).

3. Fold all the clean laundry. Four baskets waiting at home. Ugh!

4. Clean the office out. Office supplies to put away in the desk, items for our anticipated yard sale to take to the garage, and all the stuff hastily emptied from my car before it died and was dragged to the dealership (still waiting for the diagnosis!). Since this is the entryway/foyer/room you see first, I really need to clean it up!

5. Return all “stuff” sitting in the office to its various owners. A friend’s towel, my girlfriend’s baking dish that she sent over filled with fish chowder (YUM!), a return to Brookstone (the turntable that would record my LPs as MP3s was a bust!).

6. Put the five bins of hand-me-down clothes back in the attic. The attic had to be emptied due to the roofing; I didn’t want to risk anything getting on or into the bins, so it’s all sitting in the upstairs hall.

7. Return all cans, bottles, and shopping bags to the grocery store. Cans and bottles are supposed to be a weekly errand, but haven’t been done for the past two weeks, and we’ve forgotten the reusable shopping bags the last two trips to the store (thanks to the broken-down car!).

8. Go see “Harry Potter 6”. Promised the two oldest we’d go, but with vacations and everything else, we haven’t had the chance until now. But since I made plans with my friend and her kids, this is one thing that will definitely get done!

9. Update my major “To Do” list. The one that has EVERYTHING on it. Most time management experts recommend NOT keeping a huge long list as it will weigh you down and defeat you, but it works for me. I’m over 40, have kids, have a husband, and all that comes with all that. I can’t remember if I brushed my teeth this morning, so to the Experts, forgive me. I have a giant list and I’m sticking with it.

10. Update the family calendar. I fell off the organizational bandwagon this summer, but didn't feel the need to write "Beach", "Pool", "Beach" on the calendar. Now that school and sports are starting, I need to know where I’m supposed to be.

Have a great weekend, y’all!

You Wanna Make A Bet?

2009-08-18T13:20:00.009-04:00

The garden spray was a huge hit last night with the players, the coaches, and a lot of the parents. At one point there were so many players around, I started lining them up and waving the wand in the air. Repeat performances will continue until this weather breaks.

Our roof is being redone. It's a big expenses and we put it off as long as we could, but it's become obvious it couldn’t wait any longer - you could see where a few of the top layer of shingles ripped off during one of our winter storms. Today the dumpster gets delivered, so my driveway will be unavailable for the rest of the week, and they'll start tomorrow morning. The noise level might be a little high, so a lot of errand-running and trips to the beach are in the works.

Not a real big issue, right? Well, let's just say timing is everything, and my timing (and luck) often leaves a lot to be desired. Have you seen the weather maps, the ones with the big hurricane named Bill that’s strengthening in the Atlantic? At this point, the weather dudes think it will most likely veer away from the New England coast, maybe just brushing us. Me? No, I think it's going to surprise them and head straight for us. Why? Because my roof, if these guys really know their stuff and don’t mind the 90+ degree heat, will be done by Friday. That’s right. A brand new roof just taunting the Hurricane gods to give her a test drive.

Keep your fingers crossed that Bill doesn’t like surprises or forgets where I live…

Just Like The Pros...

2009-08-17T13:56:00.007-04:00

It’s that time of year. No, not the start of school. The start of youth sports. Yep, I bet you’ve missed the frantic schedule of practices, games, inevitable drive-through dinners-on-the-fly, and the pile of equipment strewn in the entryway!

Of course, it’s still summer, and it’s hot. Summer, it seems, finally remembered New England’s address, and it’s really, really scorchingly hot. With Middle Child starting his second week of youth football, tonight’s two-hour practice in this heat should wipe him and the rest of the kids right out.

Now for the really cool idea (no pun intended!). My darling hubby, an assistant coach this year, mentioned the sprayers that the pros have on the field and came up with a brilliant alternative. I went to K-Mart this morning and bought a 2 gallon garden sprayer. He’s going to fill it with ice water and spray the kids’ heads every time they come off the field for a water break. It should be enough to wipe the sweat off and cool them down a little.

I have a feeling Hubby will be the hero of the field tonight! If you have kids already back to practice, you may want to make the $20 investment. I’m also going to try it at the beach this week. If I leave it filled with ice in the car, by the time we get back to the car, it should be melted but still cool. Maybe if I spray the hands and feet off BEFORE they get in the car, my van will stop looking like a sandbox on wheels.

I Am SOOO Wearing Shower Shoes...

2009-08-16T01:17:00.005-04:00

This post is bathroom humor. Seriously. It involves the worldwide breaking news story of last week, which you may have missed. It seems an environmental group in Brazil launched a TV ad campaign asking everyone to urinate in the shower, estimating that each household would conserve over 1,000 gallons of water per household annually.

I know urine is sterile, but... eeeewwwwwwwwwww. That story is right up there with the start of summer "Do You Know What's In Your Pool Water?" articles. Thanks, but no thanks. I don't want to know. Let me just pretend that the chemical soup I'm swimming in has neutralized any bodily fluids that may have been unleashed. Or that no one has done anything in the water but swim.

And thanks so much, news media, thanks for making this a global story, so global that my children heard it. And thought it was hysterical. Particularly DS#2, who said "So I can save water if I pee in the shower?" Which I quickly responded, "Not in this family you don't!", and muttered something about, "and anyone who even thinks of it will be scrubbing the tub afterwards, am I clear?!?!" Since they're not into any more chores than absolutely necessary, I think they're convinced that it's not an option for our family.

I am all for water conservation, but there has got to be a better way than asking the family to use the shower as a urinal! Those of us who grew up with septic systems had our own way to conserve water. Have Brazilians never heard the phrase, "If it's brown, flush it down, if it's yellow, let it mellow."? Maybe they should have that be their campaign slogan...

Remind to me to pack my shower shoes and Clorox wipes for my trip to Rio!

A Towel A Day…

2009-08-14T13:19:00.002-04:00

Had an interesting conversation this week. A friend’s adult child and his family were visiting the week before, and she noticed that every time they took a shower or bath, they threw the towels in the hamper. Since her son was taking two showers a day plus they live across the street from a beach (add in multiple beach towels), the washing machine was getting quite a workout.

She, on the other hand, confessed she often reuses her bath towel because, hey, you’re already clean, right? But then she thought maybe it was a I-live-alone-and-it’s-kind-of-weird habit she’d developed. So she asked us: do you reuse the same bath towel, or do you use a fresh towel each time you bathe?

In my house, each person hangs his or her towel up after using it, a habit I picked up in my parents’ home. Nowadays, I would spin it as trying to be environmentally conscious by conserving water. In reality, it cuts out at least one to two loads of laundry a week! My brother, on the other hand, having grown up in the same house, NEVER reuses a towel. When they visit, his entire family always uses new towels every time they bathe, causing my mother to hyperventilate at the amount of laundry they create and the strain it puts on her septic system. (Trying to point out to my mother that my adult brother and his wife are capable of helping out with their own laundry when visiting is another whole story…)

Would love to hear what others think…

No Kidding

2009-08-13T12:02:00.001-04:00

This morning, my teenager made a statement with a sense of amazement in his voice. “Mom, most of the stuff on the list we don’t have to do because we did it last night!”

Let me digress. I am a maker of lists. It’s the only way I seem to be able to keep track of everything that needs doing. I don’t know if it’s midlife or my hormones or not working full-time or have more than two kids or living with all guys, but I really need to have that one big To Do List to give me my daily marching orders.

Now it seems lists are necessary for the others in the house, meaning my husband and two oldest. And by lists, I mean my lists. Not their own lists, which would be something like: get up, eat something, watch TV, play video games, eat something else, watch more TV, eat something, play another video game, more TV, fall asleep.

I’ve been valiantly trying to get the house decluttered and organized, and am making noticeable progress, so their lack of help has become more evident. Like not putting stuff back when they’re done with it. Or dropping their shoes/clothes/books/games wherever they happen to be. And it’s not easier to do it all myself. I know some moms who do that and I’ve been there too, but I finally acknowledged I can’t do it all. I’m not SuperMom, and I don’t want to be – I don’t want these kids expecting me to show up at college to clean their dorm rooms, do their laundry, and make their beds!

The final straw came when I realized that if they weren’t reminded, they wouldn’t bother to brush their teeth, change their clothes, wear their retainers, or even eat breakfast! Then the two oldest spent a week with my parents, two people who can best be described as Neatniks. Afterwards, my mother described how often they had to be reminded to do simple tasks, weighing in on how they should be more responsible and how I needed to be on top of them all the time like she was with us. But I also don’t want to yell all the time or feel like I’m talking to a wall or always be the Bad Guy. So I typed up the list.

It’s a simple list. There are morning tasks and evening tasks, and half of it is more reminders than tasks, things like “eat breakfast”, “brush your teeth”. There are also simple tasks: “take out the compost”, “take out the recycling”, “vacuum the kitchen”. The list also must be completed before the TV is turned on, video game is plugged in, or friend enters the house.

Yesterday was the first full “List” day. With some prompting, things got done. So this morning, before I left for work, they were already on it. And then the comment. Because they had taken the kitchen scraps to the compost bin after dinner, had taken out the recycling, and had emptied the dishwasher LAST NIGHT, those were tasks that didn’t need to be done this morning.

Ah hah! The light has dawned! Now to see if it lasts once school starts!

Long Time No Post

2009-05-26T19:58:00.004-04:00

For the few folks that do read my rambling rants, I apologize for the lengthy absence. Family obligations and mean moms gone wild got in the way. I now know two things:

1) what it means to be part of the "sandwich" generation, and
2) which side of the family my children truly get their stubborn streaks from.

The whole mean moms thing was just the topper on the whole last two months, and would best be explained over a coffee (or large alcoholic beverage). Let me know who wants to meet when....

Cough Cough

2009-03-27T11:43:00.004-04:00

I don’t want to blog. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to do anything but be at home in my pajamas or other comfy clothes, lying on the couch, drinking hot tea with honey and watching endless episodes of Law & Order or the variety of court shows on. I’m sick. My head is stuffed, I have a cough, and I have no energy, probably because all I’ve had for three days has been soup, toast, and tea.

But I’m a mom, so we all know what that means. Somehow I need to pull my head together, shower, go to work for a few hours (as I have no sick days left), drive back home, picking up DS#1 and assorted teens along the way, deposit said teens wherever they need to be dropped, do a variety of errands, finish the load of laundry I re-rinsed this morning (thanks to a hidden piece of schoolwork on yellow paper that shredded itself onto all items in a dark load), prepare dinner, feed kids, do the dishes, get whoever has a practice tonight to and from it, go home, and get everyone into bed. Then I can get in my comfy clothes and lie down with a hot cup of tea. Thank goodness those endless episodes of various Law & Orders will still be on.

Whoever said a woman’s work is never done wasn’t kidding…

So, question of the day:
When you're sick, do you give yourself a break, or keep soldiering on even though you feel like garbage? What in your routine goes by the wayside, and what doesn’t?

Today's Thoughts

2009-03-22T12:51:00.006-04:00

I feel guilty for not blogging more this month, but other things have taken up my brain cells, so just a quick update on the attempts to empty the food stores in my home...

This menu thing (March Madess) is working better than I hoped. Having already been one of those moms who planned her menus for the week, I thought using everything on hand would be easy. Just throw everything into a spreadsheet, match up the main dishes, side dishes, and whatever frozen veggies I had on hand, and presto! A month of dinners.

Then the reality. I'm embarassed to admit this, but with a few family events on the calendar where dinner'll be served, we've got enough meals to get us through not 31 days, but six weeks. Wow!

The menu has eliminated most of the arguing over what's for dinner, and putting it on the family calendar allowed me to see the nights where crockpot dinners would work best versus the nights I had a lot more prep time. Some days even got switched around this week as the kids were getting the horrible spring cold going around, and soup and sandwiches on Friday's menu worked better on Thursday.

So far, one and a half shelves out of five in the pantry are empty, and one shelf in the freezer is bare. More impressive are the savings to date. With the $25 amount is working so far, we've saved over $300, and we're all having fun talking about where we'll go for our big dinner out.

The hidden benefit? I don't know if it was jumpstarted by the two days' walks I've gotten in, the stress from the "Mean Moms" situation, or the menu planning that eliminates last-minute and potentially diet-destroying food choices, but I'm down almost 10 pounds in 2 weeks! Whoo-whoo!

Is anyone else finding themselves doing a similar eating out of the pantry and freezer? What's the oddest item you found? What's the oldest product you have on hand?

Mommy Talk

2009-03-19T23:15:00.005-04:00

When were we supposed to stop being smart women and dumb down our speech? When did knowing what your job entails, even in a volunteer situation, get to be an option, not the norm? I’ve always been under the apparently mistaken impression that any group is made stronger when everyone is able to share their outside expertise in different areas. I mean, if a legal question comes up, don’t you figure the lawyer might have the answer? If you’ve got a question about how the police might respond, wouldn’t you ask the officer sitting next to you? Do most women really believe that they’re all going to get along swimmingly at every gathering? When did being a part of a group mean that you’re supposed to dumb down your speech, not ask questions, not share experience in similar situations or your knowledge, and aren’t welcome to have an opinion if it differs with the opinions of those leading the group? Seriously, are we supposed to be teaching our daughters to eat it with a spoon and say “Yum, thank you, may I have some more?”

Can you guess why I’ve asked the above questions? I’m under attack. From the “mean mommies”. Fair warning: this is a vent post. Snide, belittling, nasty, and spiteful. If you don’t think that’s fair, I’m sorry. Since last week, I’ve dropped almost 10 lbs., gotten about 3 hours of sleep a night, and have contemplated buying that stock in Rolaids which should have gone up thanks to my many purchases. Having done nothing wrong, I’m not giving in to two bullies with such questionable ethics that they’ve jeopardized our whole group. As my dad said, he never taught me to back down from a fight, especially ones where I’m right (leave it to an Irishman to say that!).

What kills me is that, if I truly didn’t give a damn, I would have turned everything over and walked away, but that would have screwed everyone involved, including a few friends. And they don’t get it. No matter who talks to them and no matter how they talk to them, they don’t get it. And I won’t leave those friends who've dared to anger the sleeping snarling beasts by sticking up for me in their line of site.

I did very nonchalantly approach one of them after a meeting and asked what they needed to talk about. “Oh just next year and tieing up stuff this year,” was the response. A week later, smoke gets blown up my you-know-what when the same person calls with a great spiel about working together as a team, but then goes and does something that I’ve warned consistently puts our group in danger. I respond by email reminding folks that, if they’re holding a meeting, better that it be open, and they shouldn’t talk about things that need to be in front of the whole group. The response? We’re in charge and we’ll do want we want. I send another email, just pointing out that we all agreed at the start of the year not to act in this manner. Now I’m told that they’ll do what they damn well please and they’re tossing me out. I tell them to stop being abusive and I’m not stepping down. They say “yes, you are” and have the secret meeting anyway.

So at this point, I’m seeing them this weekend with others present, who’ve worked very hard to have us come together to “air our differences”. I had already asked another 3rd party to intervene (which miraculously was done), and the response to my request to just let us finish out the year was, “no, she’s confrontational and needs to leave”.

I’m confrontational. Then the complaint is that I speak too smart. I’m waiting to be told “uh, yeh, your words, they’re too big for our heads. Need to talk like four-year-old.” These biotchy bimbos! They can’t get it through their thick skulls that I have been doing nothing but keeping them from jumping off the cliff and taking us all with them. And why? Because I actually give a sH@#, whereas they could screw us all and walk away wondering why we didn’t thank them for it! They must be the most ignorant, self-absorbed, delusional women on the face of the planet. Let’s put it this way: Octo-Mom thinking she can handle 14 kids alone has more on the ball than these women!

The best part? Because they’ve been so lazy following up on details I mentioned at the start of the year, they really can’t get rid of me. I'm sure of it - I've done my research (that's why I haven't blogged in a while). I've looked at every law and procedure and even asked two former members of this group. They really can't. So, regardless of the outcome of this meeting, I’m going to our next General meeting. The one after that is when we’re supposed to elect new officers. If they let it happen. They didn’t last year; they just appointed themselves, much like little dictators. The even better part? If they don't hold elections, they'll be stuck with me again. Watch the news - there may be a local governmental overthrow!

So I don't feel like I'm the only one who's ever dealt with women like this, please share your experiences with "Mean Moms". Maybe it will be as cathartic for you as it is for me!

It's Not You, It's Me

2009-03-03T13:09:00.007-05:00

I have the jitters, and I don’t know if they're from the pot of coffee I absentmindedly drank yesterday while stuck inside or from the prospect of dealing with a few “mean über-volunteer moms” at a gathering next week. Past dealings with one in particular have been very confrontational, but I’m comforted that I’m not the only one to have incurred her wrath. As parents talk (and we do, admit it!), it’s common knowledge that others have had similar run-ins with this person, leading us to believe her “it’s not me, it’s you” altercations stem from her own lack of interpersonal skills.

Because we’re all on a particular committee, this person and her crony requested the pleasure of my company for an offsite private meeting. Just the three of us. Cozy, huh? I nicely declined their invitation, asking why they need to meet with me as I’m either at work or have small children in tow. Their response? No further information, but they ask again what other times I’m free. Free? Are you kidding? Did you not understand my response? I don't have free time until September 2026, when the last child will HOPEFULLY be at college. And if I did have free time, I’d rather schedule a bikini wax than meet alone with these two!

DH thinks I should take the meeting to get them to stop but keep my guard up in preparation of the potential argument. He also thinks I'm being too pessimistic and might be pleasantly surprised. DM’s advice was to not meet them in private, period, since they’ve already ambushed me at a meeting once this year, and "leopards don't change their spots". She thinks I should speak with them at the gathering next week with witnesses present. A few of the other parents think I should either wait to talk to them at the gathering or email them a very direct question – what do you want to discuss? and see if they reply.

Every time their names appear in my email box, my BP goes through the roof. I’m driving up the stock value for whatever company makes Rolaids thanks to the churning stomach acid that rises when I think about dealing with them. I don’t know what to do. Any suggestions?

Welcome to Winter

2009-03-02T15:22:00.001-05:00

Looks like my wish in a previous post (Dreaming of a Big White Blizzard) has been granted to some extent. At this point, I’m writing “Last Day of School” on a removable sticker for my calendar. It’s only our second snow day, so we’re not in the situation some other communities are in due to storm closures this year. Personally, with the change in job situations last year, adding days onto the school year doesn’t affect my schedule the way it used to.

But what does get me is the news today. The whining. The “I want winter to be over” people. The “I want to move to Florida” folks. Here’s a news flash – Florida in August isn’t a walk in the park either. It’s New England. It’s only the second day of March. Did you actually think winter was over? Did you really believe the weather we had Friday would continue, that we wouldn’t see another flake? Come on, people! If you’re really a New Englander, you know better than to put your snow shovels away before May 1st! Your snowblower stays front and center in the garage until the grass is green and six inches high. Hats and mittens don’t get put away until school lets out, when they’re replaced with swim suits and beach towels. And there is a small ice scraper that has permanent residence in my car’s glovebox (I’m also somewhat disorganized and lazy, so leaving it there beats trying to find it after the first hard frost in October).

I’m not a fan of driving in this weather. I’m not a fan of the bitter cold. But I do have a strong fascination with nor’easters. I enjoy the way the snow swirls around the yard, making drifts in the strangest places. We fill the birdfeeders outside the kitchen window and watch them gather. We examine new tracks in the snow and try to determine what animals are tromping through the yard under cover of darkness. We stay inside and snuggle and make waffles and bake cookies and play board games, and then the kids go outside to horse around for a while with half the neighborhood, returning to the warmth of the kitchen for cookies and cocoa, noses running and faces pink from the cold. These are the small things they will remember when their own kids have snow days, just as I remember such moments from my childhood.

Besides, being a true New Englander, I’m all set – I hit the grocery store yesterday for milk, bread, and eggs.

March Madness

2009-02-28T11:31:00.003-05:00

I’m conducting our own version of March Madness in our house this month. We’re eating out the freezer and pantry contents. Why? Because I, in an effort to keep our food costs down, have followed what all the experts have been telling us to do. Buying items on sale with coupons and buying those items in bulk. Buying generic items on sale in bulk. Doing a weekly menu based on what I have on hand and what is on sale. My downfall - when something is on sale that we eat on a regular basis, and I have room, I buy it. I also hate being caught short – stuff for dips and brownie mixes, things that can be quickly thrown together for drop-in guests or that 9:30 announcement the night before that your child volunteered to bring in some nut-free item for the classroom party the next day (store-bought, for the most part due to warnings, is then out, not to mention the stores are CLOSED at that point!). And last, I'm a New Englander who lived through the Blizzard of '78 - a forecast of substantial snow instinctively drives me to the supermarket for food (fighting the instinct now even – have you seen the New England forecast for the next two days?). As a result, I have a packed freezer and shelves overflowing with stuff.

My goal? To spend only $25 a week on essentials – milk, eggs, fresh fruit and veggies, bread, and cold cuts – things that have short shelf lives. I’ve allowed an extra $15 midmonth for our traditional St. Patrick’s Day meal of corned beef and cabbage, but if I shop the sales, it shouldn’t run that much. Diapers shouldn’t be an issue as Target had a sale and we stocked up. Since we average between $125 and $150 a week on groceries (including shampoo, paper products, diapers, etc.), I’m looking to not only clean out everything and start fresh, but to save a few hundred too. The kids have been motivated to help by being promised a restaurant dinner at the end of the month if the goal is met. Even one meal out still leaves a substantial savings.

The freezer, pantry, and kitchen shelves were inventoried last night, and I was shocked at how much we have on hand. I dare everyone to do it. Write down every item you have, even the half-used items – you’ll be amazed at the amount of food actually in your home. The half box of the-only-food-that-your-child-would-eat-for-the-last-month, now the one item that will not pass through their lips. The baking goods left over from never getting around to baking all those cookies for Christmas. The nine boxes of Annie’s Mac*n*Cheese that were on sale – the one thing guaranteed to be eaten in your house, but now taking up half a shelf in your pantry.

I’m about to pour myself a cup of coffee and sit down with said list. Meals will be determined from what it on hand and will be written on the calendar now. A new meaning to the word “Spring Cleaning” will be realized, I’ll be able to start fresh, and a few hundred dollars will be saved. Wish me luck.

"Mean Girls" Redux

2009-02-26T17:47:00.005-05:00

It’s the new moon. It must be. Because it seems that we've got our own personal episode of “Moms Gone Wild!” airing around here. “Mean Girls – The Big Girls’ Edition”. "Mean Girls Redux". I know I’m not the only one – another mom recently noted getting “cyber-bitch slapped”. What is with some of these women, these fellow moms, nowadays? Aren't we all in the same boat?

Before you read this and think “well, maybe she’s the problem”, please know that I have worried about that. I’m not one of the inner circle so that’s not really likely, but to ensure that I am not becoming a “Mean Girl” myself, I often ask friends from different circles to give me their honest opinions of my behavior in certain situations. They confirm that I am behaving like a rational, concerned human being. Before you think “mean girls beget mean girls”, you should know that these friends providing the reviews are the moms that greet EVERYONE at functions and engage them all in conversation. These are the moms that remember your name and will talk to you on the sidelines. These are the normal moms. Some have money and drive nice cars, and some have beat-up old vans and husbands that work two jobs to make ends meet. They are real and caring and honest and like an occasional cocktail and have problems in life too.

Then there are the “Mean Moms”. They seem to be acting up lately. I seem to know more of them than I care to. Everything seems to be a battle with them lately, every tiny decision, every activity and function. These are the women who, when volunteering, take charge, won’t listen to anyone else’s ideas, and try to strong-arm everyone to march to their drummer. The ones with all the ideas who promise the moon and deliver on little if any of it, who then blame everyone else. The ones behaving like spoiled brats who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar, and who throw tantrums because you dare to correct them. On occasion, they will even resort to tears in group situations, not so much to show their hurt but to steer the sympathies of the group their way. The ones who, once you think you’ve resolved an issue, continue to hammer you over the head with it until they get their own way. The ones I will not give in to, which makes me Most Wanted on their hit lists.

My recent experiences have shown me that they should be kept in cages, not allowed access to school personnel (as they may make promises of funding before an actual VOTE has been taken), fed Big Macs and pizza and really bad Chardonnay, and not allowed any access to the Internet, as their email missives are more anxiety-producing than their actual words often are. If that can’t be done, written policy and procedures for these groups seem to keep them at bay somewhat (like vampires and garlic), because they’re at least smart enough to know that there are few excuses for violating things set forth in writing. Avoiding smaller group meetings, where part of the agenda will most likely be calling me to the carpet for disagreeing or questioning them in front of the group, has become a must – it seems necessary to have all discussions take place in front of larger and larger groups, because said groups would boot them out of their leadership positions in a bloodless coup if everyone knew all.

The answer would be to give up and give in. But I can’t. I chose to stay involved with a number of organizations and can’t limit my direct exposure to these women. I accept that. I let some things slide. I pick my battles. I’m learning to thicken my skin to their barbs. I’m learning to not have opening my email and seeing a message from one of them cause an anxiety attack (didn’t have luck with that one this morning).

I just wish someone would invent “Biotch-B-Gone”. I’ll order the first case.

Dreaming of a Big White Blizzard

2009-02-24T20:46:00.005-05:00

I need a Blizzard. A February 1978 New England Blizzard. I know most of you are saying to yourselves, “Are you NUTS?!?!?” Yes, at this point, I am. I barely made it through school vacation last week. But I wish we would have a big major three- or four-day blizzard. Maybe what I really wish for it to have a blizzard like it was back then. Nowadays most of us would just jump in the all-wheel drive SUV to drive around, or jump on the home computer and log in. And, more importantly, the advances in weather forecasting and the 27/7 availability of news today would most likely change how such a blizzard would be handled (then again, this is New England, where our weathermen and women seem to get it wrong at least once a winter - “well, Jake, last night’s snowstorm really caught us off-guard, hahaha, but that’s weather in New England”…).

I remember that week with great fondness. We had already had a rather large snowfall in the week or two before, so any snowfall would be adding to our white winterscape. Sledding (without helmets!) and cross-country skiing after school were the norm with the kids in the neighborhood. Snow caves had already been carved out of the banks around our driveways, and tunnels filled with snowballs for throwing sat waiting for launching.

Being in grade school, we were dismissed early that day with an ominous warning from our teacher, who was a real science guy – he’d had us watching our classroom weather station, and he thought it was going to be a pretty big storm. He told us to take all our books home and gave us extra work, and then said clearly, “Make sure you all go straight home. No going to the library, or downtown, or your friend’s house. Just go home.”

We went straight home, just as the storm was really starting. My parents came home, lucky enough to get out of work early. And it snowed. And snowed. No school Tuesday – we listened to the weather and my parents painted the cellar stairwell. Wednesday – no school again, still snowing, and now the Governor, in his rag wool sweater, is on TV, telling us no travel for the rest of the week. Listening to WBZ and folks calling in to try and find family members who had gotten stuck on Route 128 and elsewhere, some of whom had medical conditions. More painting – this time, my parents’ bedroom. Periods of power outages and the phone lines going down, then back up again as a party line (we ended up on the same line as our neighbor and a friend down the street). Neighbors coming over, and everyone playing board games and cooking in and on our wood stove (we had an old one that had a grill that swung out – which came in handy!). Thursday, painting another room – hmmm, maybe my memories weren’t really good ones, but I was so high fumes, I couldn’t tell the difference. Probably not a good idea to paint when you CAN’T open the windows or improve the ventilation, huh?! Snowmobilers coming to the door and asking if we needed anything important – they were making a run to the little corner store about a mile away, and were checking with everyone along the way. The couple who ran the store wrote charges on an index card so you could pay them later, and handed the items out their upstairs kitchen window – the first floor where the store was had a drift covering it. Friday, a plow finally made its way down our street, only to have the winds drive the snow back in behind it. And we began the official shovel-out at our house. By Saturday, things were getting somewhat back to normal.

But for that week, we had togetherness. Not just my family – my neighbors, my friends, perfect strangers all worked together that week. Things were simple – heat, meals, games. No phones, no computers, no work, no school, no shopping. Kerosene lamps and wood stoves kept us in the light and warm. I would just love to have a week where my family and I could just unplug. Where I wouldn’t be worrying about what obligations I had, what cleaning I had to do, what was next on my list. And, while I know a lot of it was that I was a kid, and I’m sure my parents had the same things running through their heads then that I do now, I miss that feeling of simpleness. Would a weeklong blizzard solve it?

Where Is The Love?

2009-02-20T11:50:00.004-05:00

If anyone out there is going through similar circumstances, I would love to hear from you, because right now I feel very alone in my boat. DH and I have become, for lack of a better phrase, nothing more than roommates. Working different shifts doesn't help, but everything ends up on my shoulders, no matter how much I ask, explain, beg, plead, or demand help, which in turn doesn’t help in the romance department.

I thought I’d give us a break. With three kids, we really have not had a “date night” in a while (if you count his high school reunion, we’ve had, um, one in the last seven or eight months). So when I got this email from a wine shop near us promoting their FREE!!! beer, wine and food tasting next Saturday from 3 to 7, I forwarded it to DH asking if he wanted to go. His response was “If you’re up to it”. My response? “Why would I not be?” His response? “Just trying to be considerate and to let you know I’m willing to expand my horizons.”

What the #@%#$?!?! If I weren’t up to it, I probably wouldn’t have bothered to send you the email in the first place! And since when have your horizons diminished so drastically that going to sample a beer and have some clam cakes is an “expanding” experience?!?!

We had a similar experience on our anniversary. He asked what I wanted (we usually don’t do anything big). I said I’d like to go out to dinner, and even listed three of my favorite restaurants. No response. No planning. No getting a babysitter. No nothing. Even when my mother called and asked him if he needed them to babysit, his response was “Um, I don’t know. We don’t have any plans.” She even went so far as to remind him that it was our anniversary. Still no takers for the free babysitting.

That afternoon, he asked what we were having for dinner. That’s when I asked him whether he’d made any plans. He commented back “Well, where do you want to go?” Once again, it’s my responsibility. And even if I make all the arrangements, it’s still a hassle to get from Point A to Point B. Doing ANYTHING together, kidless or otherwise, is a hassle. Even buying sneakers for the kids is like this.

“We need to go to ____ to get the kids sneakers sometime today.”
“Okay.”
“What’s the best time for you?”
“Whenever works best for you.”
“Okay, we need to leave here at 3:00.”
“Okay.”

At 3:00, he’s still sitting on the couch while I’m trying to get the baby into a jacket, get the kids to get their shoes on, and grab anything else we might need (bottles, packed diaper bag). Then he wonders why I’m already stressed. And if we go without him, the kids get upset because they want to have family time on the weekends, since they don’t get to see him much during the week. And, no, he can’t go by himself, because my DH also has a problem with shopping for bargains – he doesn’t. Even though money is tight, he won’t look through the sales ads or ask about any upcoming sales. So I’m in a Catch-22 – I have to go, and I have to have him go with us.

Ugh. Maybe it’s just the weather. Or the winter doldrums. I just hope it gets better, because this isn’t what I want my marriage to be.

Any hints on how to improve the communication level?

Sully For President!

2009-02-11T12:39:00.001-05:00

Okay, I cannot be the only one with that thought. But wouldn't it be nice to have someone who is an honest-to-God tested-in-a-crisis hero in charge? And before the Obamaites start, I have nothing against him. I just love Sully (sorry, Capt. Chesley B. "Sully" Sullenberger III) more. Hey, what about head of the FAA? I'd feel a lot better when I fly knowing this guy was making sure corporations were following the safety rules.... "Well, you may not think it's important, Mr. Chairman, but when I had to crash-land my plane into the fast-moving Hudson, and did so without losing a passenger or crew member,..."

Since the moment CNN broke the news about a plane crashing into the Hudson River, I have watched and read all about this miracle. The rallying cry in our house is now "Oh, no, not the plane again. Quick, get Mom more Kleenex!" Okay, so that's not new. I cry at the drop of a hat. So much so that my kids have a saying, which will sound familiar to anyone who has seen the movie "Varsity Blues" - "Mom's crying because Mom's a bit of a crier". Hallmark commercials? Forget it - the waterworks start the minute they begin. CMT music videos on, say, Memorial Day weekend? I'm a slobbering mess of tears. So, when watching his hometown greet him and his wife apologize for being weepy, saying "I seem to have this uncontrollable problem with my tears lately," I went through 17 tissues. When I watched "Good Morning America"'s reunion between crew and passengers, another 22 used balls went into the trash can.

What I think stands out in my mind is not so much that this man, labeled a hero, stayed so calm (have you HEARD the tape between him and the tower?!?!), and not that he acknowledged, and rightly so, that everyone on that plane, the flight staff following their training and the passengers remaining orderly, all had a hand in this being an amazing story. It's that this is one of those moments that shows how great people can be. From the folks on the plane to the ferry boat captains and crew who rushed to the plane to the ferry riders who helped bring wet passengers on board and gave them their coats.

Maybe this story is so amazing because we all crave more stories like these. The stories that remind us that there are good people out there. That good things do happen. That give us hope. Instead the media fill their broadcasts and papers with only criminal acts and bad news. Maybe that's why it's so outstanding, and why I've used up almost two boxes hearing about it.

As Bright As Day At Midnight

2009-02-10T14:55:00.003-05:00

The full moon (known as the Snow Moon) brightened the snow-covered hill next to my house during the night. It was so bright, I almost thought about waking the kids up and taking them out sledding. But it's a school night, and there are neighbors to consider, and they're sound asleep.

So I stare out the kitchen at the brightness at midnight. And at 1:00 a.m. And 2:00 a.m. And 3:00 a.m. And at ....

I don't know if other moms out there go through this, but once or twice a month, I tend to have a bout of insomnia. Or what I think is insomnia. Maybe it's just really hard-core zoning out.

I get caught up doing some project - folding laundry, going through papers, doing stuff on the computer, and all of a sudden it's 2:00 a.m. That I can handle; having been a night owl my whole life, it's no biggie to go to sleep at that point and still get up in the A.M.

But the last two nights, it's been 5:10 a.m. and 3:20 a.m. respectively. I'm so tired today, I actually banged out sick today because I didn't want to get behind the wheel until I'd slept some more.

I've cut the caffeine out. I've tried a warm bath and warm milk. I'm considering the old cold medicine route tonight, as I have that on hand. That, or some Bailey's on the rocks.

It's not medically-related. It's not hormonal, as it happens at different points in the months. It also doesn't always happen on the full moon (for those of you reading this thinking "hmm, does she also notice a sudden increase in body hair and the presence of werewolf-like fangs?") It's more I-have-too-much-spinning-in-my-head. Anyone else out there go through this? Any suggestions?

Your Failure To Prepare Does Not Constitute An Emergency On My Part

2009-02-09T01:37:00.001-05:00

Dear Uber-Volunteer Mom,

I understand you have a lot on your plate. Really, I do. Working full-time, raising your child, spending time with your husband, volunteering your time on different committees and for different causes. I applaud you. Really, I do. As a fellow volunteer, I know how much you have on your plate.

That said, do you think, if you volunteer to be the person to organize something, you might want to call on others to ask them to volunteer their time and/or their baking skills and/or BOTH of the above for a three-day event, you may want to contact those others, oh, I don't know, NOT the day the event starts?!?!?!

As my DH informed me Friday, you had called that morning while I was at work and left a message on our machine. When asked what your message was, his reply was something along the vein of "It was too long and demanding for me to pay attention to it, so I left it on the machine for you." But not in those words. He instead made some comment about your rambling request, added “that’s what drives me crazy with all these idiots in charge”, and suggested that I should call you as you specified in your message.

Here's the thing: I did call you back. At your home number. I know it's your home number because your answering machine message told me that I indeed had dialed the correct number. And I left you a message to clarify what exactly you needed me to do and/or what I was available to help with. And I left you BOTH my numbers. Home and cell. That was Friday afternoon before school let out.

Then I listened to your message when I got home. DH was right. Little on the demanding side. Here’s a bit of advice: when you need assistance from volunteers, don't call them the day the event starts. And don't take up four minutes of their answering machine time to list ALL the ways you need help over the next three days. DH’s comment about “idiots in charge” was because, on top of asking me to personally volunteer at any and/or all three days of the event, you also asked me to bake items for any and/or all of the three days. Said baked goods had very specific guidelines to wrapping, labeling, and what time to have them at said event. Geez, lady, there’s a reason volunteers suffer from burn-out, you know – chairs like you!

Here's the thing: I also work. And I have kids and a husband too, one of them being very small (a kid, not the husband). And I volunteer for a lot as well. And I've worked with you before, so I know your M.O. I have heard how you're "sooooo bussssssssy". And here's my thought: if you're so busy, you should probably assume that you're not the only one. And if you choose to be in charge of coordinating folks to help out, it behooves you to make such calls a week or two in advance.

Or perhaps you could take your cue from the FORMS that each parent received for this event that asked us to volunteer and to indicate how we would like to volunteer!!!!!!!!!! You know, the form I DIDN’T RETURN!!!!!!! It's like the g*^%& church bazaar every year - I didn't indicate I would do ANYTHING for it, as I have noted three other areas I am willing to volunteer in, and have even rated them, just like the form told me to. And by the time the bazaar rolls around, I’ve already been taken up on at least one of those areas. But every year, I get a message asking me to drop off my donation to the bazaar. And to return money for the tickets you've mailed me to sell, you know, the ones I NEVER requested because, hey, if I wanted to be in sales, folks, I would have made it my friggin' career path.

So, to Uber-Volunteer Mom and all the other uber-volunteer parents out there, I’m sorry you’re “soooooo busssssssy”. I’m sorry that you’ve offered to be in charge. I’m sorry you didn’t bother to try to man this event until the day it begins. I’m sorry that you waited until the day it starts to find bakers to donate goods. I'm sorry I never had the chance to talk to you because you STILL haven't returned my phone call! I’m sorry that your failure to prepare in advance does not constitute an emergency on my part.

Oh, and when you are in charge, UVM, as you said in the message, one would only presume that you would be present at said event to ensure that all runs smoothly, that all volunteer staff shows up and is in their appointed positions, and that all baked goods are delivered according to your precise instructions. On all three days. So imagine my surprise when you were nowhere to be found today. Guess you were “tooooo bussssssy” with something else, huh? Maybe you'll let me know with what when you finally return my call!

Sincerely,
Fellow Busy Volunteer Mom

P.S. - And after all that, I still made a dozen friggin’ brownies, which I dropped off today, just as the last day of the event was getting underway. Not an hour or two before the event, because that was precisely when I caved and threw the brownies in the oven.

Volunteer guilt, I guess. Baby steps, right?

Taxachusetts

2009-02-05T12:20:00.001-05:00

I live in a state that, like every other state, is experiencing an very significant downturn in revenues. However, my particular state's officials are now putting forth ideas like going after the taxes folks don’t pay when shopping in our neighboring state. That’s right, they are going to spend who knows how much money (and create some more state jobs too – where do I sign up for that gig?!?!) to collect the taxes that I would have paid if I shopped at home. Now I know why we've been called "Taxachusetts" for so many years.

Let me get this straight - if I chose to travel to another state, in a fine example of FREE TRADE, you're going to come after the company to collect your piece of the action. Have you idiots ever heard of a thing called STATES' RIGHTS?!?! So does that mean that if I go to Disney World, you’re going to come after me for any taxes I don’t pay on my Mickey Mouse ears down there? And let’s draw this whole thing out – does that mean that, when I shop in Maine (8% sales tax) or eat out in New Hampshire (7% meals tax), Massachusetts will refund me the difference, since we’re only at 5% sales and meals tax? Thank you, guys, I'd love a refund on the 14.3% taxes I paid on that rental car in Orlando!

They’re first going after a local chain of tire stores who have stores in both Massachusetts and New Hampshire. Just when our state officials need companies to continue doing business here and want others to open up new companies to provide more jobs, more state revenue, etc., they’re going to go after them. Give me a break, guys. Stop trying to look like you’re concerned and actually address the issues – you need to cut back like the rest of us, instead of driving more and more folks out of here. And on top of it, stop wasting the tax dollars you've got taking this thing to court. The only ones making out on this whole issue are the politicians and the lawyers, and the regular working folks of Massachusetts are once again getting screwed.

Today's Tidbits and Third Grade Projects

2009-02-04T22:07:00.001-05:00

First: let me just say that the Who are by far one of the best bands I've ever heard. And thanks to the CSI folks, because, since all three of your series are constantly on CBS, I get to hear them every week! Baba O'Reilly rocks!

Second: I'm so fried today it isn't funny. I need to clean the house, I need to organize all the awful paper that seems to multiply like rabbits everywhere, and I can't get out of my own way. I just need one day with no interruptions, which at my best guess, as DS#3 just turned 1, should be in 2018. But the way the economy is going, one of the other boys may have moved home at that point.

Three: dear Teachers, while I understand that I as the parent need to allow my child to do his own work, could you please take the limitations of a grade school student into account, particularly one on an IEP due to LD, when assigning your monthly projects? First, having to make a "3-D clay" example of the chosen endangered animal, in case you weren't aware, requires clay. But there is no more clay. Well, there is, but it's only in white, blue, red, and yellow at my local crafts stores. He's doing the panda. I need white and black. So, for more normal animal-like colors, a mother finds herself in the Crayola Model Magic aisle. Where the appropriate colors can be located. For $3.99 a packet. For crying out loud, didn't our town just pass an override for the schools? So, for just over $8.00, because we need the two colors, we have our supplies in hand. Then, because this stuff is so friggin' expensive, I make DS practice with the few unhardened Playdohs I have stashed downstairs. Then, because this stuff is so friggin' expensive and the first head and snout end up all mixed together, I help with the rolling and the sticking together of body parts. Once the animal is molded, we have to make the animal's "environment". I was planning, with a panda, to just buy some bamboo, stick the panda in it, and call it a day. No such luck. None of our local florists have bamboo of any type on hand. So we resort to painting and papering the shoebox. Then the accompanying paper, with cover drawing, is completed. It looks great, but what did this teach my student, besides the fact that his mom can pass third grade. Again. I think I'm saving this one. By the time DS#3 gets to that grade, all the current teachers will be retired. And I'll be older and more tired. Maybe if we just dust it off.

Things I did accomplish today: registering DS#2 for his spring sport, putting the deposit down on our summer vacation spot, finishing said project, and actually feeding the kids a nutritious dinner.

From the Frying Pan to the Fire

2009-01-30T00:58:00.001-05:00

I've been involved in my kids' school PTO for 8 years now. Last year, due to DS#3's arrival, I missed 2 meetings. I did notice that things seemed to be getting funky, but thought it was just me, and besides, I couldn't say anything because I hadn't been there, right?!? Well, this year, I'm an officer, and dealing with the Queen Biotch of the PTO. This woman self-appointed herself head again, and just yips at you until you give up or give in.

Well, she's got a shock coming. We started this year by calling her on a number of expenses from last year (no recorded vote, no attendance, no minutes, no approval). I should say, I called her on it. In front of everyone. Which was met with true biotchiness from her. And an "executive session" at the following meeting because she doesn't dare have this stuff discussed in public. A meeting at which I told her she should have just put on the agenda "Chew Out ____" instead of "Discussion of Last Year's Spending".

We're now planning her upheaval. If she gracefully fades away, we're okay. If not, plans for a bloody coup are underway.

A Vent for the Steam

2009-01-30T00:42:00.002-05:00

Okay, when your DH comments on how, now that you're working part-time instead of full-time, you seem to constantly be pissed off something or someone, you know it's time to:

a) tell him you've always been bothered by this crap, but you dealt with it from work on your lunch hour;

b) tell him that you just never talked about this stuff with him because you compared notes with the girls at work;

c) tell him to lay off or he's next;

d) all of the above.

Guess which one I picked?!?!

New Year's Resolution #9 - to keep up with one thing: this blog. Here goes....

Calendar, Calendar, Oh Where For Art Thou, My Calendar?

2008-08-27T19:04:00.001-04:00

I don’t know about the rest of the parents out there, but with school about to start, my calendar is once again my best friend. It’s my constant companion even in the summer, but during the school year, I can’t live without it. And with all the changes this year (new baby, DH working second shift, me working part-time instead of full-time, DS#2 playing football, along with all the other stuff our family does), my sanity may depend on my calendar. Well, my calendar and a well-mixed cosmo or two with a few of the other moms every so often.

And apparently I’m not the only one. I’m not saying everyone around me has a datebook. I’m saying they all count on me and mine! I have a few girlfriends who will even call me at work, late at night, early in the morning, because they can’t remember when something is scheduled but they KNOW that I will have it written down and they can count on me. Some of these same people also will tease me about how organized I am. And all I can say is: WHAT THE HELL?!?! How did your lack of organization turn into my being your personal secretary? And how dare you tease me about it? Ever heard the saying, "don’t look a gift horse in the mouth"?

Yes, I’m one of the more organized moms in our little circle. I can be a little obsessive at times, but in all fairness, I live in a house with two dyslexics, one of whom (DH) I am almost certain is also ADD. Lists are a must in our house. And I do have a number of calendars. A large desk-blotter calendar on the frig. An academic-year weekly calendar (the monthly academic calendar last year ran out of space for all the details too many times) that I carry with me. And this year, an online Google calendar has been added (because it’s easier for DH to call me from work that to write anything in HIS datebook, and DS#1, the middle-schooler, will appreciate another reason to be online). My calendar includes school and sports events, appointments, what’s for dinner, and other reminders. And yes, the paper calendars are both color-coded by person, because I live with a houseful of males and the color thing works for them because they can’t be bothered to read all the notes (the Google one is only one color because it would require multiple calendars to get different colors, and I’m just don’t have THAT much time).

Here’s my question for anyone reading this: why is this so unusual? What happened that a person keeping a detailed calendar is not the norm? I can’t imagine having kids and NOT having a calendar to keep track of everyone and their events and who needs a ride when. And on the plus side, my calendar actually helped when I was interviewing for jobs recently. When a potential employer asks if you’re organized and good at calendar management and you whip out your color-coded, full of notes calendar, they tend to smile and check off the "Yes" box, because apparently many people don’t know how to write things down and keep track of them anymore....

If you’ve got any insight as to why it seems so unusual to be organized nowadays, please share it with me. I don't like the feeling that I'm all alone on my island here.

Notebooks and Pencils and Binders, Oh My!

2008-08-18T13:14:00.001-04:00

I’m sitting here writing this blog rather than face the disaster that is our office. The floor is littered with bags from Target and Staples, and I am ready to tear my hair out as I try to figure out how many school supplies I truly need for my middle- and elementary-schooler and how much of it can be returned. Why do this now? Because now that those “1¢ for 300 notebooks, 100 pencils, and a file cabinet” sales are mostly over, we have received the supply lists.

Correct that: we have just received the supply list for my younger child. My middle-schooler received the supply list in the mail with the end-of-year report card (why they had to be mailed when grades closed five days before school ended is beyond me). And, since I'm one of those people who surfs websites of interest and clicks on EVERYTHING, I clicked on the teachers’ web pages in the grade my oldest is entering at the end of last year. There I found a similar supply list for that grade, a list that had a few different items mentioned, such as floppy disks on the web list versus a USB drive on the mailed list. So one might assume that the web list is older. Here’s the kicker. There are items on the web list, such as a scientific calculator, a protractor, a ruler, textbook covers. This is when Doubt with a capital "D" took a seat on my shoulder

Last year's list also DIDN'T have a few items listed, items that my middle-schooler informed me were needed the second night of school for the next day (a Friday, mind you). Similar to the “yeah, we’re having a class party tomorrow and I said you’d make cupcakes for the whole class!” surprise, I received the “oh, yeah, Mom, I need a book cover for tomorrow, you know, one of those stretchy ones”. The “oh, yeah” implies the unspoken “I realize it’s 8:21 at night, and there’s no way that you can get to any store that might carry the item I’m about to tell you I need for school tomorrow morning no later than 7:30, and that if I don’t have it the whole town will know what a lousy mother you are because you can’t see into the future and are unprepared for my last-minute office supply needs”.

So the items mentioned on the web list have also been purchased. Where the two lists have an item in common such as “pens” versus “6 erasable blue or black pens”, both regular AND erasable pens have been purchased, lest my middle-schooler’s teacher prefer the kind I didn’t buy. For those lucky enough to have teachers who will work with whatever you send in, thank your lucky stars. Unfortunately one or two experiences has proven that, when your student is told that a binder is required for the class and you send in a 1” blue binder, you will be informed that it must be a 1½” black binder and the 1” blue one WILL NOT cut it.

There is reason for concern with these unspoken, unwritten last-minute supply requests. During the book cover debacle, my offer of a plain brown paper bag for a cover (remember, the kind we used “back in the day” – great for doodling on!) was met with great angst and gnashing of teeth, and the cry of “no, my teacher said it HAD to be a stretchy one or else I have detention until I get one”. I had a meeting at the school that afternoon and happened to run into the teacher who had made the request. I explained I could not get to a store that evening to purchase the requested item, and that, if it were alright, the brown bag would have to be enough until I could get to a supply store. My comments were greeted with laughter, and I was told that as long as the book was covered, there would be no detention. But, in speaking with other mothers at the meeting, they said their students had made similar claims. More troubling was that detention was being threatened for non-conformers for a last-minute supply addition, a request that was never communicated to the parents.

But unless you speak directly with the teacher, what do you do? Drop everything during the first few days of the school year and run all over the place? Pay through the nose for the last one available from the back recesses of the store, the same item that had been on sale not a month ago for 5¢, the item that your student will greet with “I’m not using something that’s THAT color!”? I’m too much of a penny-pincher to pay full price, and with the cost of everything else this year, every penny is being pinched. And many parents (including the one or two who may read this) may think I’m whining too much about this situation. Maybe I am. I just don’t understand how a simple supply list cannot be complete AND given out at the start of the summer. Really, is there that drastic a change in the items a student needs for a particular grade from year to year? Is it that much to ask that we get the list at the start of the summer? After all, people are busy year-round. Isn’t the cost of gas forcing many to limit our driving and plan out our errands?

Give us parents a break. If school budgets are that tight that we, the parents, on OUR tight budgets, are required to buy all our kids’ supplies with the exception of copier paper and textbooks, could we at least be told EXACTLY what they will need for the school year when they leave school for the summer?

Just Saying "No"

2007-10-05T13:56:00.002-04:00

How prophetic that my last post should be about the work I was doing as Registrar for our Intown Youth Soccer Program. Our big fundraiser, a Jamboree of sorts, was held last Saturday. Over 350 kids and their families participated; we’re talking over 1,000 people, folks. And by the end of it, I had had it with one little prick of a Board member and resigned my position!

The Jamboree planning sucked. It shouldn’t have been rocket science. We did it last year, and I had all the notes to go by. It should have been a cakewalk. But last year, the Director and I did most of the detail work, while these schmucks moved nets the night before. This year, our Jamboree Committee, or, as I like to refer to us, the five doing all the work, ended up being next year’s Director, his wife, their best friends whose daughter is on their daughter’s team, and me. I’ll refer to the two other women as “the two wives” from here on in.

As always, the Director and some of the Board members just wouldn’t let go, even though they had no plans on being there for the event anyway. Four of them came to one meeting, promised to get a bunch of donations for our raffle, and never delivered. Even our Director had told everyone at our Coaches’ Meeting at the start of September that she wouldn’t even be there for the actual Jamboree because she had a wedding for the same day. Of course, she is also my oldest son’s coach, and then asked my DH, who had worked a comp day to get that Saturday off to help me out, to coach in her place. She also named next year’s Director as Jamboree Coordinator, but then wouldn’t give total control over to him, complicating a number of things. She kept delegating things out to members of the Board who everyone knew 1) wouldn’t be there for most of the day, and 2) couldn’t bring themselves to raise a finger to help, just like last year. She also included them in on the last meeting, held at the Jamboree Coordinator’s house, where they all sat in front of the TV watching the Red Sox game, drinking beer, and arguing with me and the two wives who were doing all the typing, schedules, flyers, etc. They were, as my father likes to say, as useless as tits on a bull.

On the day of the actual Jamboree, we had the Treasurer and two other Board members helping out most of the day, in addition to a small group of parent volunteers who did a great amount of work. The rest of the Board showed up late in the afternoon and proceeded to stand around gabbing, as all the heavy lifting was being done in front of their eyes by the volunteers.

Now comes the good part. The U10/12 Boys Coordinator had set up one of the most asinine playoff schedules I’ve ever seen, with brackets such as “Loser Game #1/2/3 with 2nd highest score vs. Loser Game #1/2/3 with 3rd best score”. I mean, no one could figure out what the Hell he’d done. When we tried to have him explain it at our last meeting, he snarled at us. Oh, and with all these Board members being League Coordinators, the rule at our Jamboree is that, if you can’t be there to run your League (age group), then you need to have someone else in charge (usually another coach from that league). Well, the guy who was going to sub for him ended up pulling his back, and could barely coach his own games, let alone run the League.

Well, Mr. U10/12 shows up at 12:30ish. Stands around gabbing with two other Board members. While his bracket system is screwing up the works. Because of a 0-0 tie, the third to last game was allowed to go to triple overtime. Kids were on the field for over an hour, when these games were supposed to be 25 minutes long. Parents were complaining to, among others, me, my DH (as coach), and the Jamboree Coordinator, that either their game was now an hour behind schedule or their kid had been playing for 65 minutes. I finally had had it, and went over towards the little huddle. When I approached him, I told him that he needed to do something about the situation. He turned on me, snarling “What is your problem?” I said, “We have a number of parents complaining. Go handle your league and do something about it!” His response was to snarl back that I didn’t know what I was talking about, at which point I lost it. My next comment was “X, you haven’t been here all day, so shut the F@$$% up!” His response? “You know, you have a real attitude and the entire Board is sick of it!”

Keep in mind, I was up until midnight that Tuesday night, working on details with the other two wives, then up until 10:00 p.m. the night before the Jamboree putting together the last-minute donations that we had obtained because the others had not delivered on their promises. Then I was up at 5:45 a.m. the day of the Jamboree, and at the field at 7:00 a.m. I was tired, hungry, sunburned, hadn't gotten to see either of DS#2's games and only one or two plays of DS#1's first game, and, on top of all that, I'm five months pregnant. Needless to say, I was not too willing to "suffer fools gladly" at this point.

Have you ever had an opportunity open up right in front of your eyes? I saw it, and before I knew what I was saying, I responded, “Fine, I’m done. I hereby resign. Get yourself another Registrar. I don’t need this from anyone!”

Short rest of the story: the Director kept phoning me from the wedding reception to find out how her team was doing. I told her to get a new Registrar, that I quit, and the details. She told me we’d talk the next day, which she didn’t do. My DH was so upset, he was going to pound this little jackass into the ground, but I convinced him not to. I wanted to call the cops, because at the end of the Jamboree, those same Board members who couldn’t be bothered to help out all through this process were toasting themselves on the town field, where no alcohol is allowed (our League has the same rule) with beer, while the volunteers finished cleaning up. We didn't. But I can guarantee that DH will, somehow, some day, get his revenge. To start with, this jerk is always at CCD on Sunday mornings to pick up his kids. DH was planning on approaching him and saying, "Don't you ever speak to my wife again. Cross the street if she's coming. Don't say a word, don't look at her, nothing." Jerk-Boy wasn't there the next morning, so DH did one better. The guy who lives next door to Jerk-Boy grew up with my DH in a city closer to Boston than our town. He has a day job and is a reasonably successful comedian on weekends. DH filled him in on Jerk-Boy's antics the day before. Guy was amazed, because where they come from, speaking to someone's pregnant wife like that, regardless of the situation, would earn you a beating. Guy will most certainly point this fact out to Jerk-Boy when he speaks to him, only it will probably be something along the lines of "You got a death wish? He's got 7 older brothers, and if you were in our hometown, they would all be over here kicking your ass! You should count your lucky stars!"

After my resignation, I watched my oldest son's second game, then picked up my table that I had brought for the day, and my family left. After we got home, I got a call from one of the wives, and ended up with the two wives at the Jamboree Coordinator’s house, and we had a great bitch session. They were both upset with how I got treated, especially in light of how much work I had done, and were very vocal both at the fields after I left and when their husbands and one of the other Board members got to the house afterwards.

Hearing nothing from the director, I sent an email on Monday morning to everyone on the Board, quoting X and officially resigning. I followed it up with a recap of all the loose ends that I was aware of for the Fall 2007 season, including the late registration I was HANDED AT THE JAMBOREE, and the other late registration I was TOLD WAS COMING. I turned all of it over to the Director Monday night, leaving the paperwork with a copy of the email at her house.

So I am done, and here’s why I know that, in the end, it was the right thing to do: when asked how they would feel if I wasn’t Registrar any more, both my kids responded with “Yeah! So, no more meetings, right?!?” Also, the next morning I woke up and felt as if a huge amount of pressure and weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

I did tell the wife of next year’s Director that, if there was turnover in the Board and her husband needed help, I would be willing to help. But, as the Board currently stands, I want nothing to do with that dysfunctional lot. The best part? For the most part, I was the word-processing form-making data-entry person for the entire Board. The registration forms? I created those. Notes to the League Coordinators re: missing kids, issues, etc.? Me. And I also, due to lack of response from those same Coordinators, was the primary contact for a number of the parents who had questions. DH has sworn me to do no more for the League, even for my friend, the Director. I’m not even making sure my name comes off the contact list. So the Spring 2008 season should be very interesting, as I have resolved to not respond to any emails for a 20-day period. After that, I’ll simply respond with “I’m so sorry. I am no longer the Registrar for our Intown Youth Soccer Program.” No directions, no nothing. I know it sounds vengeful, but it really is no longer my problem to address, and I am finally learning to say “No”.

Well, Aren't You Special

2007-09-17T14:19:00.001-04:00

Does anyone remember the Church Lady, Dana Carvey's character on Saturday Night Live, and her punchline "Well, isn't that special?" I find myself wanting to say the same thing, only with my own spin on it, to certain parents I have had dealings with over the summer -- "well, aren't you special?"

Somehow, two years ago, I wound up as the Registrar for our Intown Youth Soccer Program. Actually, two friends of mine were the incoming Director and the Treasurer. The Treasurer, whose children had moved on to travel teams, wanted to step down and thought I’d be a great replacement. I went to the first board meeting and was informed that someone else had decided that another newbie would be Treasurer. I then moved to the Registrar position because it’s very similar to what I do at work and, more importantly, I can do it from home.

Well, this “volunteer” position resulted in me spending more than 100 hours during July, August, and the start of September dealing with parents of the local wanna-be Mia Hamms and David Beckhams. What exacerbated the situation is that we have a Director who also happens to be a very good friend of mine, and, while we usually get along, we differ on the “let them play” philosophy. Her’s is “no matter what, I’ll never keep a kid from playing”. Mine is “everyone should play who wants to, so long as their registration is completed and in on time”. She gives every parent the benefit of the doubt, responding to one of my comments with “Well, everyone’s really busy. They should still be allowed to register their kids after the due date”.

Here’s my problem with that statement. We have a website, that listed the deadline as well as two walk-in registration nights. We had a banner hanging over our downtown noting the walk-in nights and our website address. The registration forms were available on our website, and a registration form was also sent home with every elementary schoolchild back in June. Three hundred and fifty people managed to read the form and get it in on time. Another 65 parents, mostly with returning players, CHOSE to ignore the rules, including four board members and seven coaches.

Tell me – how is it fair to tell these people “no problem -- you are so more important than everyone else, of course we’ll let you ignore our stated policies and bend over backwards for you”, when everyone else managed to do the right thing?!?! My comment back to her was, “It’s all a matter of priorities. We’re all busy. It’s what you decide is important that you will make your priority. If you really want your kid playing soccer, you’ll get your registration in on time.”

This disagreement has now led to the establishment of a “Registration Committee”, which I am on with five board members. The Director, who plans to step down after the Spring season, is not one of them; next year’s “elected” Director (the one who protested the least when every other board member elected him) is on it with me. He has a similar mindset to mine, so the situation will hopefully improve. We’re also gunning to take registration online for the Spring season, so that might eliminate a lot of the paperwork crap I deal with.

So, if anyone does read this, what do you think? Is it fair to ignore the rules for a few? Have you had a similar experience with a youth sport or other area of your life? And what ever happened to just doing the right thing?

Breastfeeding-Wanna Be Doctor-Mom Fighting For More Exam Time

2007-06-25T11:06:00.001-04:00

Give me a break!

Saw a report on the news last night. The story is something like this:

Mom, only needing to take exam to gain her M.D./Ph.D. double degree and start residency at Massachusetts General Hospital in the fall, has a seven-week-old that she's nursing. The major exam only allows for snack and bathroom breaks and, according to ADA regs, she's not suffering from a disability that's covered. She's arguing she needs an extra 20 minutes every few hours to express her milk. The board won't let her.

Okay, based on that, it seems a little ridiculous that one of the big medical groups, you know, the ones that hound pregnant moms about how much better it is to nurse your kids until they are in kindergarten, is giving her crap. Even the feds are backing nursing as the way to go. And for any mom who has ever given birth, you know about the breast-feeding Nazis that descend on you the minute they've cut the cord, trying to guilt you into agreeing that little Timmy or Teresa will be breastfed until they can drive themselves to the store for a carton of cow's milk.

The rest of the story:

http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2007/06/23/board_wont_relent_for_breast_feeding_mother/?p1=MEWell_Pos2

Of course, the report I saw didn’t mention that she’s already flunked the test once, and that’s she’s getting extra time, an extra day actually, due to her “serious dyslexia and attention problems -- she was featured in a Globe column last year about adults with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder”. Let’s get this straight: she’s already flunked once, and she’s now getting twice the usual time to complete the test (read two nine-hour days instead of one).

Are you kidding me? She can always chose to put the test off for a year. Most folks aren't so lucky to even have the chances this chick has. After all, you know many sales associates at your favorite clothing store that are allowed extra time to express milk during their eight-hour workday? How many secretaries? How many moms who have to travel for work, or are in board meetings all day? Get over yourself, honey. It's not like this kid just popped up without warning. If you hadn't flunked the first go-round, you won't be in this situation. Time to make a real-life decision without whining.

One last note: I’m not too sure I’d want this chick as my kids’ doctor. With her dyslexia and ADHD, what do you think her malpractice rates will be?

Summer - Week 2

2007-06-25T10:09:00.001-04:00

Hard to believe that the boys have only been out of school for a week. Four days to be exact, with today being Day 5. The color-coded chart is back on the frig, just so I have some semblance of order, just so everyone knows where everyone is supposed to be that day, and at what time, because, of course, all summer camps not being created equal, we have different start and end times for the various weeks.

On my end, I have had to cope with the return of the biotchy boss. This woman is one of those workaholic moms whose motto is "Just don't get involved" with anything in your kids’ lives (you know, the kind that move out of town after their kids graduate and no one remembers who they were). On the other hand, I am involved in my kids’ lives and our community. She’s also very narcissistic, and a number of times had made comments that I could have (and should have) grieved her over.

She took 18 months off to haul her kids to the Far East because her husband is working there. She was a basket case during the year before, when he was going back and forth; that’s what happens when you have NO support system. Relatives in the area wouldn’t help out, and she’s paranoid about hiring babysitters (she’s such a perfectionist). Now she’s back. And the husband? He's still over there. Great. If her own husband doesn't want her with him, what's that mean for the rest of us? Sorry, but what does it say about a couple when a job is more important than being together with your family? Particularly when your family could be living with you. Granted, on the other side of the world, but at least you'd all be together. Oh, and we're not talking poor working-middle-class folks here. He's making at least six figures, and she, having lost her mom the year before she left and her dad a few years before that, has inherited (with her brother) two homes and an estate worth at least a million.

Making things worse is the fact that the interim boss was the nicest guy in the world, who was very together and focused (did I mention that she is still very unfocused?!?). Let’s just say that she has very big shoes to fill, and she’s already showing signs of not having changed one bit.

So I’ve made it though the first week with her back. Just taking it day by day.

Virginia Tech

2007-04-18T18:07:00.001-04:00

My heart aches for you all.

For the students, the teachers, the first responders, for the witnesses to the horror.

I cry as I read about the victims, and of the heroes.

The professor who survived the Holocaust and blocked the door with his body to save his students.

The students who slammed doors and piled tables, who tended to their classmates' wounds as the madman continued his rampage.

I cry for the families, for the brothers and sisters of the victims.

And for the parents.

Burying a child is something no parent should have to do.

I cry for you most because I know that pain.

I had less time, but I had a room to clean out, and a handful of pictures.

I have wrestled with the tears that the "What ifs" and "should have beens" bring to my throat.

You will live in a fog for the next few months. It is Nature's way of getting you to the next stage, her way of protecting you from the constant pain.

The pain will scab over. But the scab will pull at its edges, reminding you it's there. It will crack and bleed when you least expect it, and the weight of your grief will be a tidal wave that you will struggle against.

"I am so sorry for your loss" seems so trite, and yet is the only thing that can be said.

I am so sorry for your loss.

Don Imus

2007-04-18T17:32:00.000-04:00

I believe the freedom of expression. I also believe that we may have been better off when there was some air of civility in this country, where you were polite to people and watched your language. Now, it's all about "shock-jocks". And one of them said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Couldn't stop flapping your gums, could you, Don? While your charitable efforts have been enormous, you have tarnished them with your vitriol towards some young women who didn't deserve it.

That said, I hope that this is not the end of the discussion. Meredith Vieira, who is one of those "women-I-would-love-to-meet-someday", was speaking with the Rev. Sharpton last week on the Today Show (her interview can be read here: http://newsbusters.org/node/11990), and she put it so eloquently into words. As Rev. Sharpton was talking about the need for government-regulated broadcasting, she said

"Let's talk about accountability, sir. Because when you had Imus on your show on Monday you brought your daughter out at one point, and this really resonated with me because I have a daughter. And you asked him to look at your daughter and you said "this is not a ho. This is my daughter." A lot of people around the country understood what you were saying because so many young ladies and young men, every day on the airwaves are exposed to ugly language: to the n-word, to the b-word, to the word 'ho,' much of it originated in the black community with rap music, with hip-hop music, as you have acknowledged. What are you going to do now to immediately stop that filth that is coming over the airwaves in the way you've tried to stop Don Imus?"

Yes, Rev. Sharpton, what are you and your community going to do? Will you target the rappers and hip-hop artists next? Meredith went on to say that it "permeates through society". Another point well stated. I've had this discussion with my 11-yo and some of his friends. They were in the car one day and one of them wanted to hear a song on the radio. I couldn't tell it was a song at first; all the bleeps made it sound like the Emergency Broadcasting System's Test. I changed the channel. I was asked why, and I talked to them. I told them how I listen to almost all music, and I do like some rap, because it tells a story. I also talked about artists like Kanye West, and how he comes across in interviews as a very well-spoken intelligent young man. That is, until he opens his mouth to sing some of the crap he puts out, loaded with cuss words. And how that, IMHO, makes him look dumb, and stupid, and ignorant.

It's everywhere. I'm sick of turning on the radio and listening to some idiot, white or black, talking about being down in the 'hood wit' his homies and hos, followed by some bleeps, followed by more crap. And to be honest with you, I don't care what race you are, DO NOT say the N-word. If you think it's okay because you are black to say that word, then you are denying everything that people before you went through to NOT be called that. And Rev. Sharpton, please don't start the nonsense about it's-not-the-rapper's-fault, it's-the-record-executive-who-isn't-black's fault. It’s the entire industry’s fault, and it’s our fault for buying that crap. But let’s not be hypocrites. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. If you want Imus off the commercial airwaves, let’s get the foul-mouthed artists off, too.

This discussion should NOT end with Don Imus's firing. It must continue on, and ALL, regardless of race or gender, who spread their misogynistic, racist garbage, and those that profit from it, should be told to clean up their acts. Just as people called the advertisers for Imus's show and told those company execs that they would no longer buy their products if they supported the show, I think all of us should call the radio stations and tell them that we won't listen if they keep filling our airways with garbage.

Look out, Mouse!

2007-04-18T16:41:00.000-04:00

Well, I have to accept the fact that I’m not good at this keeping-up-the-blogging thing. I can’t do it at home, because Webkinz (I think they’ll have to form support groups for the elementary school set who have become hooked on these things!!!!) and Club Penguin and researching the 5th grade class project have invaded our home’s cyberspace. That, and I hate people HANGING OVER MY SHOULDER when I’m trying to tie the frayed remnants of thoughts together to form a cohesive train of consciousness. So, I try to blog at work (I know, bad employee, but hey, I never get my contracted-mandated 30 minute lunch and 2, count ‘em, 2 15-minute breaks), but then the phone rings, or someone does come in and I don’t want them reading my most personal thoughts because none of them know I blog, or I actually need to get some work done. Well, no one is in the office now, so I guess I’ve got a chance to redeem myself, since it’s only been……… Oh My God, SIX months since I blogged last.

We’re going to the Land of Mickey in eight days. Eight days. Until Monday, I was just focused on getting the taxes done. Now I have to focus on this. Let me preface this by saying that I am the organized one in the house. I have three males in the house, and me. That’s one dyslexic-unorganized-possibly-ADD-husband, one 11-yo who is focused only at this time on making sure his MP3 is loaded with the latest tunes and is working on his list of “must-do” rides, and one head-strong, dyslexic-and-working-the-sympathy-vote 7-yo. The 7-yo is the one who responded to my “How did this get to be my job?” open-ended, said-to-no-one-in-particular outburst last night with the retort “Because you’re the mom, that’s why. Dads don’t do that stuff!” (BTW, I’d like to thank DH for teaching the kids about gender roles….).

This combination plus DH’s harumphing around when something is forgotten (harumphing is that sound that someone makes when they’re disappointed in you) means that I am a woman of lists. Lists that I check and recheck and recheck some more. My friends tease me that I am always prepared. What they don’t understand is that it is an emotional defensive mechanism that my husband and kids have helped hone and that my parents (very organized listmakers, those two) instilled in the first place. Lists mean that you don’t forget anything, don’t disappoint anyone, don’t let anyone down.

And when you depend on a non-listmaker to pack? Well, having DH do his own packing for a summer weekend getaway to Santa’s Village in NH (BTW – AWESOME place for Christmas-lovers) resulted in having to buy tshirts, as he forgot to pack his (not to mention the one he had on had a hole under the arm, apparently for ventilation). Last month was the best one, though. I had a retirement planning workshop I’d signed up for on a Thursday night. We were going to drive down to RI the next morning for my DB’s Naval College graduation. Well, New England weather being what it is, the forecast for the next morning involved precipitation in at least three, if not five, forms: snow, sleet, slush, freezing rain, and rain. The decision was made at about two in the afternoon to go after my workshop, and get down to Newport at about midnight, missing the storm. I told DH that I was counting on him to check the packing. He did. The next morning, at the hotel, we got up at about 6:30 so that we would have enough time to get breakfast, get ready, and leave for the graduation ceremony at 9:00. At 7:00 I turned on the iron and looked for the boys’ shirts to quickly press the collars. Guess what didn’t make it into the car?!? The boys’ dress shirts and sweaters. I went into drill-sergent mode (I don’t care if you need coffee, honey, we need to find a Target or Walmart and get them shirts!!!! No, YOU stay in the car and I’LL get directions from the front desk!!!). Twenty-five minutes later, I was charging $18 worth of blue dress shirts, and we were on our way back to the hotel.

So, my lists are out. We’re going to attempt to do this vacation with only the clothes and essentials that can fit in a backpack. I don't want to deal with checked luggage that could get lost (Harumph). I don't even want to deal with a rolling carry-on, as the last time we flew, the lovely Delta gate biotch in Atlanta ripped them from my hands (as she did with all the other coach passengers) because they had SOOOooooo many people on board. Of course, if they had restricted the business class folks to one instead of three bags, there probably would have been room for the one-bag-per-person-allotment. I don't want to even deal with the TSA regulations regarding liquids that could change overnight. I'm shipping a box down with that stuff in it (some money, but my sanity is worth much more).

I’ll let you how it’s going…

We've Been Ghosted

2006-10-25T11:16:00.000-04:00

In case you have never experienced this somewhat-new suburban phenomenon, let me share. You come home from work/school/errands to find a bucket/bag/box on your front doorstep. It's filled with goodies and two pieces of paper. The first is a sign that says "We've Been Ghosted" which you have to hang in a window or front door so that other potential ghosters don't hit you twice. The second piece of paper is a letter explaining that you've been ghosted. Your job now is to ghost two more unsuspecting members of your neighborhood, by leaving them the same letter, sign, and their own containers of goodies.

Now it gets to be a hassle, first of all because I'm one of the last people in our neighborhood to get ghosted. That means traveling to friends' houses, friends who I know are as busy as I am and who can barely get the candy in the house for trick-or-treat and figure out costumes for whomever isn't old enough this year to go out. Oh, I didn't include decorating the house for Halloween. Or carving the pumpkins the night before until 2:00 a.m. because if you do it any earlier they'll rot or serve as sustenance for the damned squirrels living in the big tree in the yard, or even better, the deer that have overpopulated suburbia.

In addition, this game is all about the element of surprise. That means that when you ghost someone, you're supposed to run up to their front door, put the goodies down, ring the bell, and run. Little tough to make a clean getaway when you're the strange car in the neighborhood and your 6 yo would just as soon say "hi" to whomever you're ghosting.

I know who ghosted our house. I truly adore this girl and her family. I've known them all my life. She even sits in my driveway on Halloween night for trick-or-treating. I have a bunch of moms who come over, hang in my driveway while we drink wine and eat cheese and crackers, and hand out all our treats, sort of a one-stop trick-or-treating stop, and she's one of those moms. So I am sucking it up, and trying to find the fun in this. I'm just not having any luck doing that right now. It's just one more thing to do on my overloaded "to do" list.

A Day Off

2006-10-05T11:49:00.000-04:00

I am horrible at this blog thing! I think if I were more organized at home, I’d have (be able to make) the time for daily blogging.

On that note, I’m taking tomorrow off from work to clean my house. Actually, over this four-day (soccer-FREE!!!!/CCD-free!!!!) weekend, besides going to the local county fair with the DH and boys, the only thing I intend to do is bring some semblance of order to my home, or enough so that I can hire a cleaning woman to come in twice a month. I’ve had it. I can’t do it all. No one can. You cannot work a 40-hour week away from the house, be on the committees I’m on, have DH working 40+ hours a week and be on the committees he’s on, have two active kids with the activities they’re in, and be able to keep a clean house. Even my perfectionist mother couldn’t do it; she had one day off a week to clean, and she and Dad weren’t involved in all the stuff my DH and I are.

I want to meet the asshole who thinks women should be able to do it all. I want to meet the Super Mom that does it all with no help. No nanny, no housekeeper, no one doing for you. Not even the hubby lifting a finger. I see all these reports and magazine articles, and you know the one thing they all have in common? They're all about women in upper management, who can tell their employees when they'll be in, or who have someone picking the kids up and doing the laundry and making the dinners! They're never about a woman who works as an administrative assistant in some office, who has her kids in an after-school program, who rushes from work to get the kids to rush home and figure out what the hell she's making for dinner (trying to make it as nutritious and healthy, but fast) as the kids tell her what they WON'T eat. They're not about the middle class mom, who doesn't have a choice about getting off the Working-Mommy track, because DH has never had a job with affordable health benefits and you can't afford to live in your hometown nowadays unless you both work (or one of you is making six figures). End of tirade. So, my plan for tomorrow:

* Drop kids off at school
* Go shopping (a necessity, as, when I put the winter clothes away last spring, I got rid of the pilled sweaters and worn-out clothes. The saying “I have nothing to wear” is ringing loud and clear at my house!)
* Get my hair cut
* Buy more hangers for the kids’ clothes (because the 6 yo keeps breaking them pulling his clothes off the closet rod)
* CLEAN THE HOUSE!!!

My plan for the rest of the weekend:
* CLEAN THE HOUSE!!!
* Get control of the paper monster that is taking over
* Get the paperwork for the shredder together for Staples (because, once again I have burned out another shredder! Shredders only last six months in my house… so I’m thankful/happy/really pushing the replacement policy purchase that I get with each shredder)
* Go to the fair Sunday morning, see the barn displays, eat my caramel apple (a MUST purchase!), and go home before the crowds arrive
* Get the boys to decide what they want to be for Halloween
* Get the boys' costumes for Halloween

Enjoy your Columbus Day weekend!

Candles in the Window

2006-09-18T10:00:00.001-04:00

One week ago, I got home late and lit four candles and put them in our front window. Two red for the Twin Towers, one blue for the Pentagon, and one white for United 93. I started doing this five years ago, on the night that everyone was holding candlelight vigils for all the victims of 9/11, and have made a promise to myself that I will do so every year, just as my little way of remembering all of them.

Five years ago on 9/11, I was evacuated from work after everything happened. Tried in vain to reach my favorite cousin and his wife in Manhattan, and cried when I finally talked to him. Called my brother, but his Naval base was in lockdown and he was put in the air, so I talked to my sister-in-law, trying to calm her. Had a GYN annual visit that afternoon, and waited while my doctor tried to find his son, who was working as a Congressional page at the time. And sat in front of my TV that night, hugging my kids and crying for all those people who couldn’t hug their families anymore.

Five years later, I have more in common with some of those people, having buried a child, just as I do with the parents of the men and women who have lost their lives serving their country. I feel their pain in a more organic way, and understand better when they talk about how there’s always something missing, at every birthday, at every holiday, at every big lifetime event.

And at the same time, through all the sadness and grief that day brought, the humanity that came through was humbling. Compassion was not shown best that day by the politicians, but by the complete strangers reaching out to one another. God bless us all.

Summer Camps

2006-08-04T17:01:00.000-04:00

33 days left of trying to figure out who belongs where when. 33 days of my anal-retentive color-coded day-by-day schedule for the two boys which seemed to be the only way I could keep track of who was doing what camp. And we're not that bad. My kids aren’t doing ten different camps this summer like some of their friends. My kids do Y camp, which is 1) in-town, 2) reasonably priced, and 3) available for before- and after-care (read between the lines, working parents, I can drop off as early as 7:00 a.m. and pick up as late as 6:00 p.m., which is a wonderful thing when you have to work these damn full-time forty-hours-a-week gigs so that you have these things called a paycheck and benefits).

They also went on a one-week vacation in July with us. That’s right, we had a family vacation for the second year in a row. And because you can reserve the same unit for the same week the following year while you’re at this campground for a minimal fee, they’ll have another vacation next year. They come back, and I worked it so that they had a week at a half-day camp (9:00 a.m. – 12:00 noon), which was just a lot of goofing around and games. Then this week 10yo DS was at D.A.R.E. camp, and 6yo DS was back at the Y. 10yo DS joins him again next week, and they’re at the Y until the end of summer. It was tough at the beginning of the summer because the road/bridge to the side of town the Y is on was washed out/closed for repairs due to the rains we got in May, and the detour was VERY congested, and then it got a little dicey the past two weeks with the half-day camp starting late and ending early and D.A.R.E. camp with it's middle-of-my-afternoon pickup. It was stressful trying to work out who would be picking up (mostly me) and dropping off (again, mostly me).

I’m hoping to have a jump on next year. I’ve been throwing all the camps’ brochures and info into one folder at home, not that I’m inviting more transportation headaches but as 10yo DS gets older, the Y doesn’t thrill him as much. So, in the interest of not being argued with every morning, I want to give him the option of other camps in the area (preferably FULL-day). I’m planning on sitting down with few blank calendar pages this weekend and sketching out what camps happen when, along with their registration deadlines, so that next year he won’t be pissed that I didn’t get him into the same camps as some of his friends. It will also give me an idea about money.

To all the parents who can work it and have the summers off, I envy you right about now. I know that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but I dream of the day I can take two or three weeks off during the summer and just veg with my kids.